A place full of golden dust.
the golden dust of the sky pours on us from the marble urns
promise of dawn
when are you different
in all the reflections of the golden grains in the light
we write our names in them with our index fingers
gold dust from the urns of the gods
we lay on the border next to them
you are the most beautiful,
in a yellow Modigliani jacket
we become part of the fire.