That they were falling effortlessly
Like the lung of the eaglets
That was floating on the air
Like thoughts of chosen people.
That consciously decided their presence
Like a yoke imposed and a plow accepted
That they learned how much and when occurred
Like the scab of the thorn in its immobile existence
It is able to record the movement of others.
That in the morning, the first sun rays
Shatters without breaking on the walls
That the lips that didn’t pray the night before
As they don’t follow the soul, are silent in front of what they see
That the four stars can make up a cross
And three of them an arrow that never fails
That time isn’t delayed in heart
Despite it’s written with the hands under your eyes.
That continues and will continue being possible
The intensity and the beginning of persistence in some people
That when this or the other is broken
Even in disorder, the sense of beauty is acquired.
That if the moon ends for not changing for ever
Would end changing for one who observes it
That the floating raft could become a burden
As the son dependence that demands to the mother a thousand sacrifices
That in this morning like in the others
Any face would dawn equal
That the schedule fixes most of the eyes
But the clocking second is the one that pushes and pulls everybody.
That someone who already believes is expected
And silent the wait who hears him saying
That Esteban, the splinter and the beam
Still run the fatigue of the children on the corners.
That palm trees search the sky in their difficult smile
Although few of them reach, none of them remains
That the day couldn’t be a rotating coin
But an intention that opens its way between two columns.