Kublai’s element

The pain of hands
Is fire and poetry
When it shapes hard steels
Into immortal living symbols
Like the seed
Coming out into life
Breathing the dreams
Of our hearts
Like the goddess
That shall nurture
The child inside each one of us
The story teller
That carries with her
In her bosom
The spring of creativity
The poetry born our of his hands
Like the fairy
Enchanted by the music
Of a lover of life
Immortalized by the hands
Of a man shaped by his own
Principles and indefatigable passion
For Kublai
Is himself
The spirit
That shall awaken us
Or maybe haunt us
To make the ordinary
Unforgettable
Because each one is
Meant
To make the best out
Of oneself
As a gift
To life