From the place where I am I can see a good part of the city, which blinks between stars of neon lights and glowing warnings.
I can feel the loneliness that the breeze brings, the flashes of wanderings that rest after exhausting hours where the overwhelming bustle of the tasks made the anatomies weaken.
I can see the charm left by midnight in a meeting with the dawn.
The silence violated at times, by some siren that demands urgency among the unpopulated streets, that yawn looking to inhale the magic that deposits in them the tumult.
I feel his heart beating in the rest that adds other beings to his environment.
And I hope, with the parsimony of the patient before the euthanasia that is practiced.
Like the soldier before the war who waits but does not crave.
As the one who inherits the property of others without depositing their trust in them.
I hope that the minutes are killed by the time executioner, that playing puppeteer is running the curtain of a work that is repeated.
I hope to let myself go to the jaws of his fantasies, to the stomach of his hallucinations, to the brain where the neurons are acquiring strange forms, like a wave that culminates his fury on the shore.
I am transported to the hidden refuge, where the secrets are voices and the soul as a trapeze artist is flying between abysses.
Accomplice of the follies, transparent before the light that transposes with its energy the fibers that intertwine the thoughts not lived.
I am shadow among the darkness that does not manage to blind my eyes, I ride in the infinite meadow of the deepest desires and I express the senses.
Like a tram where the stations have unrelated tendencies.
I embrace at midnight, companion fleeting my unknown blindness and drink with it the liquor that gives us oblivion.
And I sail away from the prison that corners with its motives the acts that force us to be part of the work of life.
And I stop being a cluster of gathered cells forming a building that over time collapses, to diffuse as air the molecules to an impalpable, ephemeral, transparent and true environment, projecting the seconds that precede the avidity.
Then the city is only a focus of light, a grain between the cosmos, a piece of property that is losing validity as we get rid of the vice of possession.
And as invisible beings we travel the distances, we take the shadow or the light that we want and we lose the notion of the unreality that we invent. Necromancers of a destiny that we tie with chains to our back.
From the place where I am I can see a good part of the city, which blinks between stars of neon lights and glowing warnings.
I can feel the loneliness that the breeze brings, the flashes of wanderings that rest after exhausting hours where the overwhelming bustle of the tasks made the anatomies weaken.
I can see the charm left by midnight in a meeting with the dawn.
The silence violated at times, by some siren that demands urgency among the unpopulated streets, that yawn looking to inhale the magic that deposits in them the tumult.
I feel his heart beating in the rest that adds other beings to his environment.
And I hope, with the parsimony of the patient before the euthanasia that is practiced.
Like the soldier before the war who waits but does not crave.
As the one who inherits the property of others without depositing their trust in them.
I hope that the minutes are killed by the time executioner, that playing puppeteer is running the curtain of a work that is repeated.
I hope to let myself go to the jaws of his fantasies, to the stomach of his hallucinations, to the brain where the neurons are acquiring strange forms, like a wave that culminates his fury on the shore.
I am transported to the hidden refuge, where the secrets are voices and the soul as a trapeze artist is flying between abysses.
Accomplice of the follies, transparent before the light that transposes with its energy the fibers that intertwine the thoughts not lived.
I am shadow among the darkness that does not manage to blind my eyes, I ride in the infinite meadow of the deepest desires and I express the senses.
Like a tram where the stations have unrelated tendencies.
I embrace at midnight, companion fleeting my unknown blindness and drink with it the liquor that gives us oblivion.
And I sail away from the prison that corners with its motives the acts that force us to be part of the work of life.
And I stop being a cluster of gathered cells forming a building that over time collapses, to diffuse as air the molecules to an impalpable, ephemeral, transparent and true environment, projecting the seconds that precede the avidity.
Then the city is only a focus of light, a grain between the cosmos, a piece of property that is losing validity as we get rid of the vice of possession.
And as invisible beings we travel the distances, we take the shadow or the light that we want and we lose the notion of the unreality that we invent. Necromancers of a destiny that we tie with chains to our back.
(Con el permiso de @joseph1956)