Pain

March does not know how 
the clouds in the sky 
the beach ride. 
The moon does not hear how the light 
space of the project. 
The sun is not the grace to feel part of the 
not the joy of giving greedy mouth, 
do not praise will never be out of there. 
Wearing a mourning veil, 
pain built plates, 
the pain of a breath of stick tied. 
Nerve fibers of the muscles
attached to the paperback. 

Come gentle wind, blowing people, 
mild pain over the air. 
That I might go for a walk without pain.