martes, 28 de enero de 2014

Just a little

Just a little

Now, when a little could be enough

And that little is what is missing

Leaving the story uncertain

Because it has lost its end.

Behind the arrangement that was then pretended

The walls outside the pitiful screams

Of those who could but did not want to

And those who wanted but were not able.

Although the sun is still shining

The afternoon already becomes serious

Such as the face of the novice

When understanding that he is no more.

The moles continue secure in their tunnels

As the earth does not take the risk to stop spinning on itself

And although knowing is painful sometimes

The searchers do not cease in their task.

As the sadness in an abandoned camp

In the tiny immensity of everything that was

Where a piece of emptiness is also inserted

Generated by the departure of a companion.

The compass that waits to be used

The time that continues weaving its future silence

And the other way the perception

Of one who remains stubbornly at his locked door.

Being not enough to witness the occurrence

Some of them could not stand the excesses

Together they poured out on a forgotten river

The full cup of a meaningless love

Laughing for lack of desires

That became necessary acquiring importance

And could only be managed with force and skills

But not with torrid surrenders already empty of innocence.

In the destiny of the worms

In the cold hatred that the spikes feel in themselves

And in the perspiration from the armpits of the midwife

In the infinite stupidity of one who did not learn to be cautious.

If part of the moon split

And the vision of a gleam is lost

And if somebody let it be

It will always continue in that way

With the hands almost full of something that nobody wants.