Where you see the looks fall

 And orphans, downcast, we screamed. Winds of love in act. In its great dimension. Ours, the nights fall on us. If we have the love knots. All our blind centers. Without exit they came. Of the existence of the look. Present and extend. Without leaving the blurred poetry. Monotonous in its noise: in that dislodged background. Under that tree of existence. There where the presence unfolds. The body of words. Where the eyes fall.