The fountain that never existed
And although all form has a limit
Perhaps in this end
It isn’t yours the one that survives the others.
Because here I am inhaling your difficult concept
My gills are filling with salt
And each stretch of the race
Roars its existence furiously
Making of its way a mirror of the horizon
As if we didn’t think so much
Season by season
When the previous moment had already arrived
After which, with the eyes wide opened
Each one of us would end closing the doors
Accepting the twilight and the dawns
As one who accepts the hours of his life
Without ever considering their origin or end
In this way avoiding wandering about the other
Preventing the growth of all roots of empathy.
So then, beyond any regret
Of all determination or predetermination
Crossing hurdles without perceptible effort
Constricting the heart not to express
Controlling the mind not to rebel
A plan is designed for the possibility of breathing
For one or two more minutes, for a day, for centuries
Braking from inside the dimension of height
Twisting the course to the vision never lost
That tired of thinking on others it imagines itself.
More than conflict and much more than innocence
In a mountainous and snowy situation
Of those who for fearing to its consequences
With a gash opened by their own hand
They let run the internal river of affection
That otherwise they could be transformed
Before reaching the sea that all rivers search for
And this time extends the necessary delay
That implies its sliding in an almost inconceivable limbo
From which it will separate when it understands the laws.
Although the pressure is only until a point
Of that infinite vitality that seeks to access
To the impressive and protective cloak of force
With which the order covers to those who discover it
If in the attempt, if in the stubbornness of the intent
They don’t stop compelling themselves to not fall in obsession
Demanding time to time to go accompanying
Those steps that perhaps are still less firm
But that involve the feasibility of a skill
That for definite assessment they already shine their unity
And in that way they can arrive at night
Carrying without dragging the true weight of the day
That finds its measure in its dimension
In the expansion of happiness
And the depth of sadness
These are born in the same instant
In which the feeling is confirmed
Then having to admit for a reason
The supreme calculation where everything have been foreseen
From whence the first clear condition of sincerity came.
And to tell what exists
An old man with a blackened soul
Who among ashes also searches
By means of easy and complicated actions
To be freed of the torment of his days
As the victim of circumstances exists
And the innate winner of the laws
Each one complying with the visionary role
One with the walls in front of him
The other with the bricks turning to dust in the air,
That brothers and sisters
Out of the possibility of the environment of their unions
Recreate in their way the idea of the smoke
According to their skin and stomach
And their condition of legal heirs
Or of their legitimate children that for one reason or another
Learned from their ancestors the costly art of despising
All that doesn’t coincide in content and form
With which they have engraved as a sign in the depth
Of each one of their exaltations for each one of them foreseen
That in the repeated images always ends
For not finding any return
Because the secret doesn’t dwell in the act
Or in the continuous repetition of them
But in what stays and in what is created later
So that the same word
The same prayer and the same book
In the face of the recipient can omit variety
As if they didn’t stand for what was expressed
But in the final intentions of the one who receives it
And complying then with simplicity
The purpose of the clay
Realizing the hidden power
Of something fixed that can change
Without contradictions but with all the possible inclusions.
And then the arduous
Will become a celebration
And in the middle of the night
Over the guests a look will pass
Making looking back possible but not necessary
Because what is occurring is enough
Because for what is coming there is no fear
Because although the possibility of pain
Didn’t yet totally vanished?
Its full conception is already justified completely
To give the measure of impermanence
Of which although dying of desires
Couldn’t escape
Because there is no escape for precision of the present
Where water, earth and air are without murmuring
They give convergence to the fire
Like a feather gives space to another
Until it forms a wing that is conscious of the other
It deploys versatility and is maintained by the pressure
With the absolute as destiny no matter the costs.
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