Being able to visualize
And to draw with firm hand
The curve that on wavy cliffs
It drives to its own inaccessible end.
Aware of the pockets in jackets
And of the palms that during their infancy
Never knew of thirst or suspected loneliness
Because at that time, in that plenty time
It was prepared the necessary vitality to face emptiness
Like the milk of the mother who didn’t have
It was sealed the promise of certain later abundance
Within reach of the hands once they are able to hold.
With just a spark of intuition
He glimpsed a point not very far
That implied all the arduous
That without scruples could fit in
Someone who would have to break the living branches
To enable the thirsty path of his steps
For ever unjustified if all would depend on his acts
And that is only comprehensible for those who coexisted with hope.
The ongoing days, one by one
They were the tragic as the necessary
The hesitation and the merciless launching
Without the relief to be able to plead a temporary blindness
Without the forgiveness that can ask someone who ignores the precept
With the thick drama of breathing a temporary shortcoming
That can be overcome thanks to the mind busy in its own expansion
Like a wound endures believing that is in the midst of resistance.
Not like a punch after many months of training
Not like an arrow that hits the target after exhausting the wind for years
Not like air that access one who endured submerging
Not like the morning that is complied after a whole night of vigil
But with fierceness with which it is seen
The construction of a mountain grain by grain
Before the eyes of someone preaching by heart in the prairie
On whose body the weight of a separated rock will not fall
But the proper forgiveness in the summit of memory.