Original poem
Eternity harps,
nail file that languish
in the vault of heaven,
denying the Sibyl
his most ardent desire for finitude,
which is good for simple humans.
Who translates the vision of the wind?
The one who never dies.
Who removes the stars
her light dress,
It is the same one that carries
their sizzling voices
in the back.
Dying light that flashes
in the epiphanic mirror,
that transmutes the imperishable
How can what is perpetual die?
The agony has a rhythm of silence.
The silence of the poet,
that numbs his own voice
and delves into the voice of mystery,
wake up in the sounds
of buried cicadas,
the nymphs that wait
the perfect moment.
The proximity of the sacred
it is revealed in a forest
where the gods intimate
with the human.
Epiphany of reality
with inverse sublimation.
Pulsion of life, Pulsion of death.
Libidinal Tensions,
diverted for a new purpose,
morphogenesis.
Original from 
September 06, 2018
The images are of Pixabay CC0 Creative Commons
Grateful to 
¡I hug you infinite, 
For accompanying me, reading me and always being there ... Simply, THANKS.
