Replantéo ephemeral

A handful of memories,
make me a life,
the elegy of the affections,
the uncertain future,
and an unknown talent,
waiting for the new day.
This ambition captivates,
of progressive missteps,
so many stones on the road,
and love, elusive love.
I can not with nostalgia,
Glossary of my sadness,
unfolding on the full moon,
my pains as flags,
and terror in silence frightens,
in the bowels of the past,
and in the flush of the morning,
my hands still have nothing,
because nothing becomes desire,
in the withered skin of time.