{There are so many times where we prefer to hide our real faces for fear of getting known. Who are we? If we lose the cloth that tends to take care of the unknown?

 Can we lose ourselves in the fog of memories? Can we integrate with memories in such a way we become free of them using them?  

 Each day is a new opportunity to glow as if nothing covered us, a new sun full of love... }

This poem is dedicated to all of those who spend their lives seaching for their home, not knowing it is always with them, with the love they are and can give to all. 

Doubt this, can be wrong, but you can try it out...

Is love our real home? 

I heard a voice,
I thought it was you,
threading the memory
of your home,
the cloth of the unknown,
the place being…
Love.

Longing feeling at home,
when I see myself
in the mirror of time.

It painted us
a gift called sun,
bringing birth
to our breath
to let us
draw the temptation
of space, our face.

Longing home,
longing that place
called My Name
became love…

We dissolve
in the mirror
of memoirs
losing all sadness,
facing all madness
becoming the cloth
that hides you from me,
that place called…
Love.