Me sostenías en tus brazos mientras el tiempo cíclico de la mente nos ponía al principio del corazón. Allá se abría la flor. De la edad la flor. De la tierra primigenia. Allá el amor del nunca atardece. El abrazo de la vida, su despliegue, la ternura. Allá se debilitó la crueldad la primera, se deslizó el color hacia el rosa, se llenó el árbol de esperanza.
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