"The path is made by my stride
And my stride is made by God,
But you should never say that my destiny
Is the result of my stride,
Because it's just a place,
Where the path
Has led me."
The man from the country called Emptiness shouted,
Tearing his flesh,
Mutilating his breath:
- It's my appearance so small
And my name so far from being.
In that town,
Everyone lived separate from one another,
Without naming each other,
Not even in whispers,
Without touching each other,
Not even with their shadows.
His space was the fullness of a cave,
Vast and silent:
-The absence,
The absence...
Then he walked directly to the void,
Broke down its doors
And no one came out.
Only a narrow and uncomfortable path appeared,
Drawing itself into the horizon:
-Happiness, happiness!
Flowed down his tongue:
- Happiness!
And each letter was an anthem.
- Happiness!
I will walk into your womb,
To impregnate you
And be reborn.
He said
And his steps,
Became wind.
And the wind,
The wind...
On the other side,
In a country called The Whole,
Was another being
That loathed his space.
"So many people worried about his life,
That they couldn't understand the need to be alone."
-Yes,
To be with myself
And no one else,
Without saying
HELLO to anybody,
Without asking after the neighbour's newborn son,
Which according to everyone,
Is rosy and tender,
Or about the death of the hero,
Who was so tired,
Of always telling the same story.
Yes,
He had to leave,
As far away as the sun itself,
As far away as that place
Where freedom awaited him.
And he ran frantically,
Forgetting himself on that path,
Narrow and uncomfortable,
Lost in the horizon.
They cross glances.
He
And Him,
But they say nothing.
The road is long
And there,
In a Maybe nearby,
Will be Her.
- Green,
As if the winter never came,
Green,
Because Hope is like this,
It never ripens.
-Come! Come! A tired man arrives!
And the Whole country lifting him up:
-Drink, drink from our hands,
Calm your hunger with our bread.
Full of joy the man from Emptiness raised his hands.
- I have arrived,
I have arrived!
He muttered:
-This is my land!
But his breath started to fade...
There were so, so many upon his body,
That his life seemed like a sigh,
Agonizing and ephemeral:
- No, this is absurd,
This is Happiness!!??
But he was panting:
-I can't die?
He panted, quietly.
-Silenceeeee!!!
And he lashed out against the human mass,
Against the whole town.
-The doors are still open,
I will make it...
And his steps became Wind,
And the wind...
On the other side,
The man from The Whole was dying of distress.
Desolation was destroying him,
In every look unanswered.
In every greeting to the void:
-Freedom!?
No,
It was Emptiness,
The inexorable
And he was exhausted,
Annulled, longing for the crowds,
Wandering the streets of a foreign and insipid land.
Dusk,
Arrived slowly
And in the darkness
He decided to leave.
His steps went safely towards a narrow and uncomfortable road,
Lost in the horizon
"And the wind,
The wind, is always like this.
No matter, where or how,
It's always
Like this."