Now here in this still space I remember who I am when I love.
Now I hear my weak heartbeat, my reluctance, my sleeping singer.
I make silence.
It is necessary that nothing moves, I listen.
Whispers, screams, cut words.
My thousands of women chatter inside, discuss, battle, agree.
They agree to let die what must die. They accept.
They decide to let go of what the tide wants to take. They let go.
They make cranes on kissable nights, they swim in the spirit of their lovers.
They contain hunger with a wild taste between the lips. They sense.
They incubate the intuition of their gifts, they leave the door of the secret ajar.
They recognize the cycles and their mirages, they unfold.
They lick their bones, name them one by one, wake them up.
They smell their wounds, cradle them with desert sand.
They caress the wise old crone who lives in them before them.
They float with their eyes on waves and memories. They hurt.
I sure don't know
who do you think you are
The veil of ignorance prevents us from peeking out and discovering
To the subject who is behind our actions
And that as a skillful puppeteer
He pulls the strings without us even noticing
One more sign that
what seems real is not
And the true self spends its time in an invisible cage
We are not who we think
Thrown into the world we fall into a dream
In which a sinister wizard
we are clouded by reason
mirages surround us
the fireworks
the masks
the deceptions
appearances
We are someone else that we do not know
We live in the shadow of ourselves
chained unknowingly
to our fictional characters