Of white and blue

The white cloud
that's now passing
through the blue of the sky
very softly
has not been put
there at all
to be looked at
with my eyes.

My glance
has been captured
by its slow pace
of white and blue;
by this moment
of soft wind,
of green pines,
of shining sea.

A great desire,
desire to lose myself
takes shape in me
silently,
little by little,
to undo myself, as it does,
in some place
that I don't know.

My glance
has been captured
by its slow pace
of white and blue;
by this moment
of soft wind,
of green pines,
of shining sea.

The white cloud.