There will always be...

There will always be
That afternoon
When the sun
Directed its light
On our direction
and our lips were burning
Feeling the light
With all its splendor

There will always be
A song
In the air
It will turn into
A boat made of paper
And will takes us
Back
To that one day
You and I met

There will always be
A dream
A ghost
Of our image
Crossing our path
It will feel real
For a very short moment

There will always be
A poem
Like this one
I write
In the web
Of our subconcious

You might never know
I wrote it

and
I might never know if
You read it!

But there will always
Be a poem
Anyways...

Everywhere

You are
Everywhere

When you
Are not defined

With the name
You have a
Short linguistic life...

A flower dies

With no name

No word to hold you down

No conditions to attach

You are eternal

Eres la infinidad

Para siempre

Posibilidad

Up in the air

Let it move,

Is up in the air

Like the sides

Of a spining dice

Let it dance

Up in the air

Where is an expectation

Not an answer

Once defined

Is dead

But in the air

Is alive

When spins

Like a dice

Where all

Possibilities are

Found.

The Leak

I saw it today
At Midday
In the busy
Financial District
betraying
The furtive truth
We like to
Keep secret

It leaks out
from underneath
the business attire
the assembly
of words
bones
and flesh

finding the
way out
trough the
maze of
steal
glass
and
concrete


I spotted it
Today
At midday
In the busy
Crowded city

When he
Stopped
In the middle
of the sidewalk
and hugged her

when he
held his hand
and he
smiled back


when she
stood up to do
a funny dance
causing her
friend to laugh


when he
sat silently
behind the glass
fighting the tears


when
he
and
she
stopped
to admire
the street
vendor’s art

usually
it betrays you
when you
are distracted

many times
goes undetected

I enjoy
spotting it
Specially
At Midday
In the busy
Financial District

Some of us, Some of them...which is Us

The same path
we walk
among some
of 'them'
among some
of 'us'

Always
so close
and Always
so far...

The Path of the Labyrinth

And the Monks discovered



new ways to go...



even higher...!




By following the Path that leads



to the Center of the Labyrinth.

One busy Morning at 8:00 AM

Around eight
This morning…
While waiting for the bus
That would take me to work…

I noticed the pigeons
Jumping from
the electrical wires
like musical notes
escaping from their clef

I saw them
Dived with their
Wings wide open
Down towards
an oblivious busy city

Their silent flight
piercing trough
the traffic
the noise
and all
the clamor below

I saw them dancing
As fingers do
when playing with
The cords of a guitar

I heard them
writing in the air
their voiceless music

A melody that continued
even when my bus
finally arrived…