The world has stopped suddenly,
like the prey that freezes before a relentless hunter,
and now it is being swallowed by an abyss
that does not return his gaze.
There was a young dancer who wanted to tell stories,
but without finding out, her life became a fable,
Which fit inside a crystal ball.
A double death
one marked in the lie and its holes.
Another on the convex edge of a sullen smile,
born of those ignominious spaces.
The fable came to an end as the animal that dies
over a waste land.
Too many crows began to dwell in that place,
but they also died of hunger because the corpse
it became ash in contact with its peaks.
That's how the dancer was left without verb,
without a place in the universe,
and without a verb or words there is no God either.
She was left wandering on an anagram
in flames jet of indecision.
