_{The image is property of the author}

_-:-

The hermit, alone and hidden,
grateful to the world
for giving you a space
where the peace of spirit reigns

It stands on its own,
stop time until needed,
if necessary for a lifetime,
of the many that he has had to live his way

Because you know that the same
"turns the earth"
and he will always be bound
to spin on it

Keep your memories in a closet,
the flame of knowledge
fiddles inside
finding the answer to his ordeal

Sheltered by his imaginary friends,
hanging on the wall,
await the new adventure
to fly into his abstract world

While everyone thinks
who does not know the love,
is the told stories
making stories to fill your collection

He pours his understanding on the confused,
listen to the voice of the weak,
give a little encouragement to those who feel lost
and can't find its way

A way to be happy among the minority,
he doesn't mind going unnoticed,
does not complain about material possession
not for thinking differently

You feel sure of yourself
enough to write words to the wind,
waiting to see them fall on someone who suffers
and maybe they can stop their suffering...

It has nothing to offer,
but sometimes a tip is worth more
than a thousand abysmal passages,
with your voice you can heal the wound of who feels unsuccessful,

of him who tasted the bitter taste of sin
and crying like a child
just wait to be accepted again

Locked in his cabin,
write to loneliness
and discover that you can't miss
who has not yet reached

So no one is waiting for you,
no one knows who he is either,
a hermit writes a book with patience,
each chapter with the printed note: "to whom it may correspond"

This is how his words pray,
because they are from the wind,
running away from the crowds,
just wait to see them fall on someone who suffers
and they can serve as encouragement...

_{[Original Content]
@nachomolina}

_{venezuela
2020}