The Church of Spirits

1. Epitafio.

I'm probably stating wrongly as a shadow running to the sunlight,
but this history is as light as a breath of his scent,
moments, liquids that carry smoke, fire, and spirits from all round around the word,
no matter whereabout, the Church was built in every corner,
in his water was nature, freeing men in his darkness, and feeding the animal.
Spirits aren't good nor evil, is the human the one who mixes, on him the question,
who to starve, who to grow.

Quiet, screaming, sour, bitter, refreshing, a religion that grew with the past.
the priest should be listener before speaker, but as in every human cause,
the prayer can be worse than the sin.

The foundations are strong, the taste of his word wouldn't change anywhere,
Saints bottled on shiny colours, glowing as day parts of the night and backwards,
confusing words walk alone together, while the Sky winks on the top, you may remember where all started, but not sure where it will lie down.

There is a say, I must say, all the roads lead to Rome, but depending where you come from you'll see a different part, you may enter to the Colosseum, with and armour or naked as a plant, rested to Piazza Navona, surrender and remorse to Sant' Angelo and Vaticano or simply forgotten form Il Foro.
Wherever you come from, it started in the same flavour, end up where you want, and that is where all the sinner become saints, just where the beginnings ends.

The Church of spirits beginning is as far as a man can, their colours collect the beauty and complexity of the properly saint, grabs the words of the mothers, where everything lies, is part of the landscape and ground fields, as my feet walk brings me the soul of the place where they are. the faith for Spirits are as big and wide as men are.

2. Gin

My first was my last. Beginning where all ends, bitter, fruity, misty, spicy, bright, clear and cloudy, soft with sharp edges, thin, light, as all the feathers of tree, bird about to land, savage, rust, but wonderfully lasting, as an ancient rock landed in the garden, where everything happens, is the favourite toy of the family, is the most delicious secret, as guilty as definitely satisfying.

Spirit, cold, rainy, moody, gin tell how the cold rain, felt on the ground, gin is the spirit of spring where winter is king, gin is a promise impossible to fulfill, gin is the dark of a red sunset, gin is the spirit of the powerless.