SNOW TAPS AGAINST THE WINDOWPANES, IT REACHED US

‘But the wasteland is at the other side of the window, paralyzed,

with ice… up to a solid unillumined white’

— ANNE CARSON

Snow taps against the windowpanes, it reached us. The wasteland is at the other side,

expanding its white cloak, upon which the signals of a great depression announce bad

weather, which is fear itself,

the wind lashes at the windows, with distorting voices, it assures us that it is all indeed

the fruit of sin, what is sin? do not blame yourself for the blizzard, tell the facts, its

characteristics,

for it’s not an empty time, it is the moment, from the unmovable within, if you know how

to listen, you will hear the sounds that prepares us for the test:

How do you pretend to be free? Find yourself on the way when the blizzard ends.

WE LIVE CONFINED BY A CONTINUOUS FIRE

‘To laugh amidst the flames’

— HENRY MICHAUX

We live encircled by a continuous fire that keeps us from isolating ourselves, a threatening

compound where the air condenses ‘til the lungs are drowned in soil, which penetrates the

spirit annihilating the smell of grass, in its place discouragement will thrive, the loss of initiative

In this confinement fear must be overcome, we must laugh amid the flames, vent our

strengths with joy, delve into our own selves, interpret the rebel that inhabits us, walk on the

embers to understand the futility of a vain life, engrave signs that generate empathy and

around the pyre, until we turn it into our own sanctuary.

THROUGH THE WINDOW SEARCHING FOR A SIGN OF HOPE

‘For the struggle liberated in the limits of bad days’

— ÉMILE NELLIGAN

Through the window searching for a sign of hope, surrounded by so much pain, by threats

in a devastated present, where pain with all its purity like a murmur is the rumor of all,

a body of sounds that tries to transmit life even to the minerals, exploding withing them,

causing echoes like bees disseminating the seeds,

surging from beings after the abyss, integrating all truths, trying to approach

the testimony of the polyhedric truth, a habitable reality, which shall be fragile as our own

essence, but settled on the best that conforms us,

away from roads apparently comfortable that call on us like Circe’s sirens,

that attract us promising protection, keeping us away from the effort to afront uncertainty

with our decisions, in the certainty of the spider that feeds on submission.

To believe in amazement, contributing to the creation of conditions to improve our own

evolution, for more humane societies.

THE DAYS FALLING LIKE A LITANY

The days falling like a litany, the press releases, with their numbers,

with their dead, with their infected, with their cured, with their percentages,

with the rhythm that strikes us, in the resistance, in the waiting, while they announce that

the sick will not die alone, and one knows relatives won ‘t even be able to have a viewing of

the body.

The days fall, upon the barrenness of resignation, upon grief and hope.

CLARITY AND THE ROAD TO

‘Simply be aware of your origins: this is the essence of wisdom’

–TAO TE CHING

In moment of darkness, to see with the interior light that we possess, like a speleologist

we discover, to travel without an itinerary with the congenital lamp,

the fluidity of the steps shall make us lucid shadow, then serenity shall accompany us

in our journey, we shall be altogether clarity and the road,

towards origins.