To the best it seems not difficult
That to others causes desperation
Being difficult to know if the attitude
Directs or is part of the result.
The mystery of confrontation
Stress or relaxation in the previous moment
With the fear that at the end
For a slip arises resentment
For the price paid for only intending it.
Because until the situation happens
Everything is nothing more than “the before”
And in its own development
Fast or slow according to each one.
When the way out is imposed
Considered as the only one but not for being it
But for having been found with effort
With the almost tragic implication of total exhaustion.
It is when the opportunity is given to the warrior
To close his eyes before the temptation of the only option
Or resist a little more even if he wants to bend his neck
To see if he really can, or otherwise to transform it in wine
Or at least preserve the life blood in its own vessel.
A crucial instant in which each word can affect the years to come
Because all past years were lived for it
And that something of transformation which all movement implies
In the memory of the demand to renounce to every immediate reward.
Having to breathe in deeply, but this time without pride
The asphyxiating air suffocating one who doesn’t belong to the surroundings
And thus receiving the most certain education
That is of calm, even if sadness dwells in it when facing a storm.
Impossible to accomplish unless by faith
For that who, subjected to iron aspires to heaven
As irrelevant is for one who lives happy in dungeons
Replete of bodies that can overcome misfortune.
Going ahead, playing to advance or not in battle
Considering when one will be stronger
And when the enemy can be seen weaker
And once more, the indomitable drive that looks for the fist guiding it.