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sábado, 7 de septiembre de 2013

The created

The created

When being silent but not sleeping
Expanding the expectation to imagine tiger shapes
And at the same time a young eagle in its nest
Changes feathers going through its own center

Spaces are also crossed
When you remember someone
Waiting for the return of someone else
Knowing that you should only be as you are.

As love did not exist
Where should it be?
Would not be true what is said
Because who talks about the future

It is because he thinks that he will die
Or he will see somebody dying
So that everybody can listen
Including those thinking like him.

When the day light is gone
Where sleeping mat or palace are left
Nothing is decided without intent
Because the steps of centuries pass in seconds

Truly, almost always, where each one rests
Already nets and hands are intertwined
Thinking as a way to gather more, a lot more
Of what can be absorbed, without sharing the rest.

Nobody rang the doorbell
None mounted the saddle while it existed
A carnation withered in the heart of the forest
As just another word that was never said.

The pleasure of knowing and guessing
When the person who attains is not referred
Because before and in time there is
Someone who even forgets himself.

In honor to the paths of the stars
For a learned or discovered idea
The ability to achieve a sound apology

In the difficult and intense society of created ones.