miércoles, 25 de septiembre de 2013



When you dig a hole in the ground
Ignoring that it would be the same
As doing it in mid air
Because it is not what you remove in doing it.

Continuing, you initiate perseverance
Being the same as an imposed task
Done during day or night
Because is not important the removed but the searched.

Once nervousness is overcome and patience acquires
Without remembering the reason or intended purpose
The effort is discarded on the verge of exhaustion
To return to ignorance and pain from its innocence.

Only then, when you think you have reached your limit
And without seeing clearly what was or will be
You find your hands, your own hands in labor
Even wanting to believe, you do give up the idea to have built with them.

After so much, the skin is depleted
Underneath the blood willingly running through the veins
Providing the continuous power force in muscles
And offering you an unforeseen result

From a motor that is called heart
From a helm that is called mind
Or from something that was found
And as it exists; it is again suspected but unseen.

Then you pretend to stop
But you slyly persist
You always listen from outside
You are defiantly attentive to details.

You almost fall and are nearly lost
Scream aloud in the sea of pained people
And in the brilliant radiance of chosen ones
Rather than guiding, they confuse others.

Not in what you look for
Close your eyes and observe:
No in your heart or mind
But who you perceive have done it
Accepting first, and allowing then.