Observed from this height,
the city and its thick web of lonelinesses
seems so fragile that a sole sleight
of hand could cause it some damage.
Therefore, I guard it as a vigilant watchdog,
only fully aware
that If I dared look any other way
in a single instant the whole day
would vanish into thin air.
I believe there are more things to a sunset
than just the wincing breeze sweeping from all corners,
or the procession of walks of life that leave their precedence
to others of less coy countenance.
It is the horizon itself, nearing from the distance,
which slowly takes on and contagions.
And all beings gain those dim outlines
of an aging word, worn out in the brims,
painfully resisting from getting entwined.
The same way I waver in swerving the sight from the city lights,
it seems the day has trouble leaving behind those who will stay,
as it gradually gives away, bound to be substituted.
And, while it crumbles into dust after bleeding in the dusk,
and the world as I know turns into a ghost before my eyes,
I finally realize, without epiphany and without a fright,
that this twilight takes its leave only on my inside,
or else we both have
never existed.
No comments:
Post a Comment