Tree and seed


Who are you?

The centre of a cosmic asterisk
A river through which
and feelings
An expectant desert
with flowers ready to awake
if the rain falls
You are more than the bodies you navigate
when you love
and more than the words you use to paint the world
A lightning, maybe, a flame,
a dark fire
burning in the deep
A traveller to himself
and to the hidden nonsense
which dresses things with sense
A contemporary nomad,
learning to live in the present
A safe full of absences,
and losses
A perpetual dance
in trance towards nothingness
You are the petty drops of your poems
and your incommensurable love,
likewise petty,
more fragile and ephemeral than the dew,
more faint and vulnerable
than the little fireworks of your life
You are a song, perhaps
already almost without air,
despite its seductive rhythm,
despite its melody
You are the words and longings of your dead ones
Your loves, heartbreaks, hellos and goodbyes
All the souls that were your shelter
and all the rejections which pushed you away

You are part of the beginning
of all your families
and you give yourself to your fortune
like the tree to its seed.

El Matallana

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