Perhaps at the end of the day
Even the trophy isn’t what you expected
Or isn’t alive the person
To whom you pretend to offer it.
It exists the possibility that the symbols
All of them, have been wrong
That the wine isn’t more than wine
And the blood a simple game of matter.
It is possible that you use words
Expressing feelings that you don’t know
Repeating the acquired habit to repeat
That expresses who learned to walk before you.
To who would surprise the perspiration on your forehead
Being enough for the bread of entire families
Barely sufficient for you to survive another day
While on a lusty face; isn’t it reflected the handy work?
Perhaps it has been a great mistake
Or maybe it didn’t exist any
Perhaps thinking on it is correct
Or the final error that ends and feeds the others.
And amongst many few things
When you were gathering for that old age
That during many, many nights
It will be reading you the story of mankind.
Perhaps you have read or listened in passing
That everything is possible if you really want
But that you haven’t capture even the whole
Nor the truth or love, it is possible.
However, the board is always in the middle of the game
You live a before and an after the game
Where to win or lose means only an idea
That distracts the essential act of participating or not
In the great secrecy of actions and inactions
Managing those who skim the consciousness
Of these things that happen but could not occur
And those not happening in spite of the sea of intentions
Which don’t reach fulfillment and everybody knows why….