Shades in D Major.

 

There are dreams that falter

because of their eagerness

to embody themselves in a single form.

They are born out of urgency

and travel the distance

through the passage of time.

Bliss brings sighs

and breathlessness,

wrapping the air and revealing, in orgasms,

dilated pupils,

lamentations and oblivion.

Shades in D major

invincible crossings of imagination

formed from assumptions between arrival and offering.

The longing to find a being that is truly there

covers the anxiety and betrays sweaty hands.

An imperfect process that passes like the exhale

of an expanding time

at the point where

words fall into the unfathomable desert of silence.

Time erases distances,

casts fog upon the coordinates of destination.

Memories and experiences are marks

face to face.

They are life-giving elements,

plural symbols whose existence is inferred

from familiar inflections

that revive the accidental

calligraphy of the past.

There are dreams that seem to falter every time they try to take shape within a body. They are dreams born from a sense of urgency, almost as if time itself calls them to exist, and so they begin their long journey through its flow. In this journey, bliss is never calm. It brings with it sighs and quick breaths, wraps the air and illuminates it with orgasmic surges, where pupils dilate, whispers turn into laments, and oblivion lurks like a shadow.

Within this passage, shades in D major can be heard, like invincible pathways of imagination moving between arrival and offering. The longing to meet a being that awaits you somewhere ahead outweighs the anxiety and betrays your sweating hands. Every step becomes an incomplete process, a continuous exhale stretching as time expands, up to the point where words lose their weight and fall into the unfathomable desert of silence.

And as this happens, time erases distances, blurs the coordinates of the destination, and leaves you to move forward with whatever you carry inside you. Memories and experiences then appear face to face, like signs you can no longer ignore. They become life-giving elements, symbols of a plural self whose existence is revealed through familiar turns of life. They are there to enliven the accidental calligraphy of the past, giving it meaning each time you attempt to read it again.

**And as the calligraphy of the past is retrieved from its shadows, it begins to reveal paths you once thought were lost. Every line, every curve, now resembles a trace leading deeper—into a place where time no longer acts as an adversary but as a companion. It shows you that what has passed is not lost; it simply changes form in order to continue following you.**

Thus, the dreams that once trembled under their own attempt to take shape regain their stability. They no longer quake before the demands of reality; they breathe with it. They understand that the body they sought is not a prison, but a vessel—a space capable of holding both the expansion and contraction of meaning, the joy of encounter and the anxiety of anticipation.

Within this new certainty, the steps grow calmer. Silences cease to be deserts; they become passages, routes that simply need time to be spoken. Even the fog that once veiled the coordinates of your path now feels like a protective veil—something that does not conceal, but shields you from excessive haste.

Slowly, you begin to perceive the truth that had always been there beside you: that dreams never travel alone. They are accompanied by traces of people, by glances and touches, by small moments that become fragments of memory. These fragments, however scattered they may seem, have their own way of coming together, as if searching for the shape of a larger story that has not yet been completed.

And then you realize that every breath, every exhale, every sigh that seemed accidental was part of an invisible path leading you here to the place where words rediscover the ground, silences transform into expectation, and time, instead of fading, begins to illuminate the distances with new perspectives.