A Single Heart's Nation

Folds of a recycled page
between the hairs of your mind
open to my opinions
saved in those little boxes
of wood, carved in the countries
that do not recognize their borders
and barely distinguish their flags

New, signs of wars more lost
than won, and their red tone stamped
over our valiant nationality,
united

over a new page
signed by my declaration-
rehearsed in my head
in front of every situation
mirages, to caress your face
of thoughtful
writer- with the ink
that taints a same sun
over each culture,
in its everlasting burn.