Inopinado Invierno

                          Hoy se cumple 1. 1 es 1 y 2. Ese 1 es a su vez 1 y 2. No obstante, 2 es solo eso, 2. 

                                           

                                                                  No hay más subdivisiones. 

1 sub 1 sub 1 fue la puerta que no pude abrir.                                           Solo dos la que se abrió

                 la de la llave que perdí                                                                             de  (e)

        la puerta espejo en la que me reflejé                                                                par (a)

             el pasillo oscuro en el que caí                                                                      en  (e)

                   la vida que atrás dejé                                                                             par (a)

Hojas aplastadas en el cuaderno negro                                                    El tiempo y su paso veloz

 me precipita a esta maratón sensible                                                    reflejo de algo no tan oscuro

    de una realidad plateada y difusa                                                         en la que no hay vencedor

                                                                          SOLO YO

                                                            (de una precisión quirúrgica)

SÁLVAME                                                             (la herida)                                                SÁLVAME

                                                                               II

Ong Namo

Sometimes, warriors most difficult battles occur in their very inside. Sitting in the forest, heading south and holding padmasana He prepares to face his deepest demons. It's been a long way, he thoughts, and today we die together.

While the wind blows his long and shabby hair, he takes a deep breath. The air starts to fill his lungs, his muscles, and as he holds the breath he raises his hands and join them making a fountain shaped form. Slowly, he breathes out a dense black coloured fluid that falls into his hands. Frightened, the warrior inhale again but all what comes from his inside is corrupted.

It's been a long way, he toughts again, while his breathes starts to get faster and shallowed. He feels that his lungs can't resist, that he's suffocating, but he focus on his frown and closes his eyes. After a while, he open his eyes again and sees that now long, thin and silver air is flowing from his mouth. As he looks down he realizes that his hands are overflowing with the strange and shiny essence. In it's reflection, he saw her, he saw the pain. Furiously shaking his body he raises his hands again and connect them with the infinite. He takes a long breathe and after he exhales, he falls unconscious.

The forest voice, slowly carrying the sky draindrops, caress his naked back.

Flor de menta 3

Hoy, la flor aplastada entre las hojas del cuaderno se seca ante la luz de un sol antes difuso. Sus hojas adquieren de a poco un color anaranjado, mientras que el violeta de sus pétalos pierden el brillo que antaño les diste. Hoy, la flor marchita se desprende de su tallo para permitir el surgimiento de una nueva vida.