prose POEMS

That life in life fill me with life, that I take everything when I live and breathe;… that in every moment, of my path and of my constant cycle, my flight accelerates, to appear in my air.

Life, life in me and in my known person, in the world that takes me and in the people that touch me. Life in the happy life, in the dark and cloudy. Life in what comes to us, in what goes to us and in what remains.

Life, life in me, in you, and life in all of us, the living of life; Well, it is an infinitely great art, to have you so alive. Ohh precious life. You so changeable, unpredictable and significant, you are part of us, during every moment of this round trip.

The world, slowly disintegrating to the rhythm of an unknown universe; It’s like little by little, it stops pretending to be a Whole, and instead becomes part of the cosmos itself.

The world feels by feeling the beauty that is neither seen nor touched; But without a doubt, it is impregnated within each particle, which forms us right here.

Wonder then it sounds; she sounds and falls in love. She falls in love with the soul; the souls; yours and mine, of course; to later start life, over and over again; just as it has always happened; or at least, since I have myself, memory usage.

When you understand that words can be fundamental building blocks or gears that, when joined with others, can create detailed and beautiful thoughts; which, could well transcend for eternities, is when your great respect for them begins;… since it is from that moment, when you will begin to use them, to understand or convey with eloquence, the actions and causes, coming from certain circumstances. Circumstances that happen; and they go around a million times, within the limits of life, which is found right here.

One way or another, time is running out. Time passes us, doing everything; or simply doing nothing;… Nothing, absolutely nothing.

And so, a minute passes, two pass, then several hours; and without realizing it, it becomes an eternity.
In a blink of sighs, our lives are gone;… all, complete;… and in the end, what the hell have we made of it, in ourselves ?… Have we transcended, left a mark, or at least manifested some evidence?… Have we loved, cried and laughed more than a million times for whatever?
What have we done with ourselves in this circumstance so irreverent, which causes us so much, but so much, during our passing through the days, the months and the hours?… have we been what we ourselves wish to be; Or simply, we have followed patterns without logic or meaning, that have blinded our instincts, not to be, what without a doubt, we were destined to be? … what the hell, but the hell have we made of ourselves and our magnificent lives?

That which comes to all of us through the most hidden opening. Coming out of such forms, that sometimes, it resembles a rock; … or a drop of rain.

The Shit, even no matter how it is; … always, but always falls. It falls like a rocket or a bullet, where it should, or where it simply beats us; … although so many times, it just slides through the hole behind our backs, leaving no evidence or note.

The Shit, the shit; or what, to a certain extent, is considered, as a vile waste; It actually has its reason for being, in all this, because although for many, it is the most disgusting or useless thing on the planet, at the end of the day, it is what makes us free ourselves, from the MONSTER that stuffs us with stupid stresses or rather , unnecessary;… that MONSTER, that conflicts us inside, without letting us be;…

But yes, once the shit is screwed up, what’s done is done;…. there will be damages, consequences; and of course, even smell;… but thanks to this shit; Whether big or small, we can start over, seeing it all, in a better way.

In other words, shitting, without a doubt, makes us better. Improve in all aspects, although at the moment we do not see it. However, as time goes by, we understand how much shit helped us; or screw it up in time;…. in a time and space, in which we could learn from it, to improve our habits, if they were rotten or unmotivated.

So if they shit; and much, do not hurry … we all shit; and we do it in a thousand ways and ways, all the time and every day. The objective is to take advantage of this, to be able to free ourselves; and consequently, be able to start over.

It is in life, an undefined paradise, where I feel incapable of interpreting myself in body and sense. My soul, song of a world that breathes continuously, speaks to me and silences me at the same time; In order to do so, I participated in everything that is in this space so intangible, sublime and impossible.
Converted then, into my own character; which, gets used to so many societies, is how I get involved, without knowing or how, with the great feeling of yours and ours; … and being like this, it is how I wake up, between asleep and awake, in a very deep darkness gigantic; where ironically, I see clearly, very very clear, without having to illuminate, everything that I see;… because thanks to the fact that I listen, the resounding echo of what is happening, I live and feel; It is how I can appreciate the figures without having to use light or fire.

I am here and I am now; I am in my present that reaches me and in the magnificent virtue that always embraces me. I am here and I am now; I am where my years are so mine, even with their ties, and things so hard.

I am here and I am now, while my features, so rough and light, characterize me from top to bottom, without overlooking everything that I have experienced, with this delirious disguise that has chosen me.

It is air, blizzard or flight, what happens at every moment of us; and of our raising so great; And for this reason, it is wonderful from there. Are we part of what is, or are we separated as we are from what is?

It is in life, an undefined paradise, where what happens happens, without even happening;… but yes, everything seems, at least life, to our eye that hypnotizes us every day.

The occasion of the world is appreciated, when it dances, as an almost perfect excellence; to the point of fascinating herself, hypnotically; … well you know, the occasion of the world, with its thousand tones, flavors and madness, that it is only enough to recognize, with authenticity and charm, the self-love that stands out in our world;… in order to make it appear to the rest of the cosmos, which undoubtedly unfolds anywhere

In the world, as you are, the clarity of a smile can be everything, to alleviate the greatest pain, the ugliest disappointment, or the most complex whirlwind of fury.

The smile, the smile in the world, is a matter of great studies; as well as countless issues that simply make us the most normal beings; who simply do not look at stupid barbarities.

The smile, the smile in the world, is that great power or advantage that makes everything that exists stop for a minute; possibly shatter, or rearrange itself according to its most certain truths.

The smile, the smile in the world, you make it, I make it;… we all do it, those of us who, in one way or another, want to see the positive in our world that welcomes us.
By Just like that, here I send you a very cordial smile, and a very loud laugh.

Meanwhile, I meditate, devoted to leisure; that phenomenon so fantastic, but also so inefficient. I do it, because my mind has begged me, being terribly exasperated, from the infinite routines that I have built for myself, to reach the “desired dream”.

But how beautiful, is the mute echo of my blinking thoughts; which, runs and runs fast, accompanying endless incongruous images.

Slowly, the cloistered world that I had is drained, because by inertia of the seconds, which guard my most lively leisure, my freedom, in subjective terms, has managed to expand magnificently, even despite the barriers that I simply saw. < / p>

Meanwhile, I meditate and meditate. I meditate surrendered and wrapped in a wonderful leisure, almost perfect; to be able to let flow;… as well as to feel life, as it is; And not like we’ve gotten used to feeling it over and over again.

The light song I sing, sometimes upholsters sweetness, in the other ears with which every day it crosses … although of course, other so many times, it only pierces anger and many despair; since sometimes, “our caramel voice” simply disappears, to another more beautiful side, for lack of that something so necessary, for our daily balance.

The light song, is the very breath of our greatest miracle; which, never deceives us; and instead, it makes us see our purest humor, reflected in ourselves and in the exterior itself.

In the usual abyss, which seems to be a reflection, of an endless number of questions; It is surprising that this same one will never cease to amaze me, even though I fall and fall; Well, while I do it, I see everything. Everything from simple images manifesting with any strokes, to much more complex and complicated details;… which abandon the static, to become something that eats, laughs and flies next to us.

Every moment of this life is a contrasting impulse; since everything that manages to be reflected, comes from the collision of several causes; causes that are aligned in a single consequence, to project ourselves in this way, what we see in every single second of our days.

Existing beauty that passes, lives and dies, is not as rare as we sometimes believe;… and on the contrary, it is so common and visible, like the air and the breeze, that float wherever. With the smile of a stranger, with the timid singing of a child, or even with the unquestionable immobility of a colorful landscape that barely moves petals or branches to the rhythm of the birds.

Beauty, from its greatest strength, could be described, as that which for each one, gives pleasure to the taste, enjoyment to the eye, sweetness to the touch or harmony to the ear. Beauty is not absolute or definitive; which makes it extremely enigmatic, exciting, and even addictive. And each one, and their perception of it, makes of it and of the beautiful world, an authentic version of what happens, second by second.