For nervous impulses
Mounting the wave
To fall in ice.
In the submissive order
Before each sliding step
Levitating without realizing
Living with probabilities.
And the air you bear
After the daylight is gone
As if the world were guilty
Of your bag already empty of illusions.
Altering the sounds
The precise bodily movement
That conveys rhythm to the one observing it.
The unknown land
That enchants in stepping it
Like a forbidden place
For the scent of the most feared hunter.
And what you will guard from the night
When tomorrow you go out again
To write a little of your history
In the noise of what you don’t know how to name.
The smoke is lost without witnesses
Without trace, without purpose
It doesn’t matter the emptiness
It’s already little what counts.
Two suns face to face
Identical in everything
And a point awaiting for them
Capable of making them explode.
And what will your friends say
When you appeal to them
And they don’t have, for your heart
More than words they didn’t live.