For my brother

We have grown-up in the complicity of friendship;
Understanding each other between the silence
of monarch butterflies in Mexico,
Always migrating, like our
celtic ancestors,
Playing in the mysteries of our dreams,
in philosophical beds, sharing
the fright of the night, cradled
by summer bunk-beds and your invented stories,
my imagination began its fluttering, under your words,
forming between the tides of our beaches,
those golden sands of everybody,
where you learned to crawl,
where you began to lose yourself
and decided to never stop;
Both you and I, infected,
with the same constant instability,
of adventures without course and the course of a continuos fate,
Both you and I, infected, with the smile without zipper,
ruddy and innocent
of our firstborn sister,
a trio that brags of your masculine strength:
feeling courageously,
lifting in its positivity the weight
of a nostalgic chorus;
We have been raised between the love
and the gabbles of unknown worlds,
we continue to grow
in the mysteries of infinity,
me, with my ephemeral body and paper,
you with your immense kindness and diplomatic head,
one day full of butterflies,
the next day with the wings of a sailboat and the rudder of a game.