Fate is unknown, as are my dialogues with life. I do not find the exact parenthesis to create another way to shout what has been silenced, for I have even lost the potential of my words.
The hours of the day are not enough for me to entrust myself out of the routine, for I am a meaningless wanderer for those who have taken me into consideration and today see me struggling with my rhymes.
Unknown becomes the one who forgets the exactness of the skin-to-skin sensation, even more so when the lowering of the arms, surrendered without fear of feeling, was the exact formula to achieve love.
Let's not look for more stones to stumble again; just let yourself be carried away by what the poet tries to say between words full of unknowns that only those who loved without limits will be able to understand, although today we think we don't know ourselves.
Destiny is uncertain, like this dialogue with life. But in the poet's words, I find the voice that guides me through this labyrinth of emotions and memories, where love, still unknown, awaits to be discovered.
