Flor de agosto
Poeta que considera el portal su segunda casa
Swimming in the air I breathe I arrive at my destination.
Like a fish cutting thru particles of its environs to reach the sought-after reefs.
Not aware of the mechanism that swaddles my surroundings and that enables my existence, I’m oblivious to the medium in which I exist.
I’m oblivious and indifferent,as if it was nonessential or inconsequential. I take thoughtless steps imagining that I could conquer a degree of change on my own without the involvement of another.
We are all connected by this empty space that allows for movement, yet creates the illusion of a state of singularity.
I swim in the air I breathe.
Like a fish cutting thru particles of its environs to reach the sought-after reefs.
Not aware of the mechanism that swaddles my surroundings and that enables my existence, I’m oblivious to the medium in which I exist.
I’m oblivious and indifferent,as if it was nonessential or inconsequential. I take thoughtless steps imagining that I could conquer a degree of change on my own without the involvement of another.
We are all connected by this empty space that allows for movement, yet creates the illusion of a state of singularity.
I swim in the air I breathe.
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