Love is not born inside a test tube,
nor geraniums on the verge of waiting.
There is no eclipse without moon, no sea without mysteries,
that cease to exist amidst the gale.
My world dawned with cautious desire
that shrouds a surprise after the rain,
on land and sea, with presumed freedom
of a seagull that flies over its bad weather.
Whenever it rains, it always pours, and the sun is reborn
even in the melancholy of a poem.
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From @asielda