the eye of everyday man
is a bowl where the world
pours out its fears, its tremors and its joys,
sometimes the bowl sheds a tear
of fear or trembling or joy
empty the bowl
fills up again
with leaves, with wind, with ashes
go that way
emptying in wastelands of his soul
sorrows that daily living
renew daily
work, love, insult, pray,
unlove and love again
until the final bowl dries up or cracks
and it definitely closes
and return to the mud
where a seasoned hand
will reopen it.
elespacioreal
Definitely closes
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espacioreal
A veces leo.
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Magician
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