The author
To be immortal
be on the lips
of infinite generations
it was a heroic act
which came at a huge price:
the death of myth
nowadays heroism
I could have another bargaining chip
another front door
another plan another trojan horse
there is no return to Ithaca
there are no more Achilles or Odysseus
now Penelope's house
could be a temple of blood and bones
with streets of veins and arteries:
a network of vital organs
that give wine and honey
to the great clock of mortals
now Ithaca will be Isla Violeta
with purple quicksand
a space invisible to the eyes
a moon mirror in the sand
a wave in a clay glass
it will be a different trip
and no less tragic
traffic could be nerve-racking
uncontrolled traffic lights
and the search / a dead end street
there will be other cyclops
other minotauric monsters
other shades of gold
with human roots
and verbal fruits
there will be no revenge from gods and goddesses
no help from a crystal god
life will be a bridge to death
and the journey a possible entry and exit
a violet battle in / against himself.