Fourteen.

Loaded machine.
A gas full of demanding engine, and particles
Of nostalgic present (and past, and future).

I cherish your presence,
My handful of hope, and beliefs.
I thank the invincible wires between our
Head and our heart.
Our philosophical conversations during the night.
And our spiritually correct fulfilling lights.
(You are the reason why I decided to stay for a lifetime)

I mourn His death.
The saint has lost his insides,
Like a box of sweet nonsense
Has lost its importance.
They thank him for his heart chakra,
And his
Celebration of love.
Like Neruda, with a less physical attribute.
But the sea sails to his eternal hymns.
(He is the reason why they decided to stay for a night)