Happen days and nights,
the memory
It only preserves faint breaths, vain conspiracies against oblivion.
More days and more nights will pass,
The birds will pass quickly in the storm.
What has been experienced is ungraspable matter,
holograms, wandering ghosts and
silent silhouettes that point us
from another time. They loved each other too.
But they loved each other with other teeth
and with other shadows.
You are no longer you and I am nothing alike, those who were are already out of time
as we will be tomorrow.
And so the day will come
in which memory will not be needed
nor oblivion
not even the doubt
or anything.
Tenderness returns inexorably to the nest,
to the womb of the cosmos,
where the ash begins again
his stubborn course towards nothing.
The birds will pass quickly in the storm.
And love will happen yesterday,
today Tomorrow.
.