Literatura Poesía


Life moves on a thin wire stretching from hole to black hole.

AUTOR: Andrés Joaquín Brillembourg S.

Life moves on
a thin wire stretching
from hole to black hole.

And back again,
round it goes.
We do not see it,
We cannot grasp the lightness
of our being, grains of sand
wedged between our toes,
smothering us in a fog.

Until confronted with Death.
Only then, do we see as if
through an eye in the sky
the true proportions of the universe
and our size relative
to such vastness.

Only then does the fog clear
and do we
begin to touch the fragility
of our breath turn to glass
between our palms.

A glass vase, washed ashore,
echoing the hollowness
of infinite space.
When Death grazes our cheek.
And things we thought
slip seamlessly
into non-existence.

Do we begin to understand,
only then, begin to let go
the imaginary load we shoulder
unnecessarily so.
We do.

The day we dare stray away
from the guardrails
laid down upon our backs
and step off the edge
into our own nothingness.

Fall back on the wings of Faith.
Trust Fate is merciful.
The day we dance as if
made of thin air,
like a butterfly unshackled
from the agonizing burden
of her own shadow.

Begin to soar.
Begin to live
truly free.

Only then,
shall we find our way
to our own Self.

And paint the sky.
And stuff the vastness with Greatness.
Give weight to being, and above all,
endow Life with meaning.

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