Six Little Ones

El Reposo del Alma

If you look at no one
and no one looks at you,
and everyone else
looks only up or away,
loneliness wins the day.
Game over.

We invent a precarious order
out of absence and chaos,
transform the missing into myth.
A pen sings like Homer,
blind, but piercing.

Don’t worry about your destiny.
All roads lead to defeat.
Nothing is enough for anyone.
Everyone is a Conquistador.

Between the sacred and profane
exists a talisman of desire,
numinous in the darkness,
iridescent and shimmering,
impossible, tremulous substance,
chaining what can never be seen
to what must be seen.

History is ours to make:
past and present
kissing in the future.

The invisible moment
yields the visible day.
Somewhere in your heart
the rain is falling.
What more can you say?