Sometimes the life inside transports,
strange encrypted codes,
difficult to interpret messages
indecipherable signals,
that cross the infinite space
at breakneck speed.

strings of phosphorescent letters
that fall and hang down,
forming incomprehensible sequences,
sometimes repeated,
sometimes unique
with random differences.

Sequences that contain the original information,
that still remains secret
of the origin and meaning of things.
It is, the secret book of God.

The order builds.
Chaos destroys.

But sometimes it is not orderly, nor chaotic,
the prevailing law.
and feelings win
that battle,
that they always lost.

is the trigger
of that chain reaction
that masks the madness
and that you saw her right.

Some call it desire
Others call it passion.
Others call it love.
And others call it sex,
they are ashamed to call it love.

The worlds ruled by love,
are oblivious to intelligence
and furtives of understanding.
Slaves of feeling.

what love does,
what love says
what love lives,
stay and win.

Neither order nor chaos
They can never destroy it

because love is so powerful
that you store inside
the strength of a child's cry.
The illusion of a birth.
The balance of a wise old man.
The patience of a snail.
The constancy with which a clock marks time.
The memory of an apprentice.
A gambler's luck
and the cunning of a swindler.

There was a time when I was so poor
that for not having I did not have,
not a body that contained my soul.
However, at that time,
I was happy,
because I had everything, having you.

Sometimes life, inside, transports,
strange encrypted codes, difficult to interpret messages, indecipherable signals,
that cross infinite space at breakneck speed.

Some call that the Matrix,
others call it love
The truth is that it was always there,
governing order and creation.
Love is the energy that sustains the world
and his absence,
which condemns to extinction.