lunes, 2 de junio de 2014


As life progresses
In an endless loop of coincidences,
I tie myself to certain steps,
Substantial views of things unseen.

What does it reserves for me
From now on?
Am I a longinquous pulsar
Sending its light from nowhere visible,
With a timemark long passed,
Or a light now unexistent
But that still reflects?

Am I that light?
An Unforgiven life beam
That have been destined to shine?

Or am I a randomness of thoughts,
Of these feelings
Out of control,

Like the energy of a revolving door
Unable to stop,
I stumble upon my own feet
And miseries,
And my misbeliefs,
And my ideas of what or how
Things are supposed to be.

That is not a life
To be lived.
That is not part of nobody's history.
But is that really me?
Is that what I was?

And what is still there to conquer?
The fruity of ladies' fluids?
The vanities of loving?
The joys of unjoyful lucks
Like a burning peackock
Protecting feathers from fire?

No, that has long been a challenge
Of a youthful mind,
Of that voracious peacock's search.

Now's the time for random encounters,
For rare exposures to frail
And no space for cinism.

Now's the time for longer talks,
Lingering slower conquers of the mind,
Belovedly eyesighting into the human behavior
With that innocence that belongs to newborns,
A fresh belief on the flesh,
A special taste for the blood,
And cells, and membranes,
And tissues that makes the matter,
And issues that makes the mind.

As life progresses,
I'm particularly interested in essence,
In presence,
In squandering the squares and roundness,
In untangling the nearing death
As I walk my ways to bordering it
As life progresses.

                                                                                                           Buenos Aires 08/03/2014

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