At the gate    Who gives the poetical way  to transcend ?    Or the spiral data source  that  inhale and exhale life ?    My squared senses had the serial door number erased by heavy rain     So i could understand that nothingness generates facts and tendencies     Fake intellectuals hate popular culture but glorify effort    I stand with the delicateness , i bow for It    That one we can find in white flowers, those that dance (when eyes don't confront them)    They swing to a kind of colour that lens coudn't capture     I'm still waiting for my guests    Tamers, magicians and clowns exausted for their work in a circus    Beggars for rest and true    I will offer angels, biscuits and tea    The night fullfill what is missing    Tomorrow, recharged, we will ...