CONFESSION

 

Yes, I was utterly wrong,

I thought that humans were vertical wounds

against the horizon, feeding their own fissures

with wood and coal,

knocking constellations with empty heads,

smiling at desire with a missing golden tooth.

And they aren’t like that,

instead, humans are just humans

like the songs that birds sing when

braiding with clouds the wind’s hair.

Yes, I bred raving conjectures all this years.

I believed,

that stones were fossils,

that hands were flowers

and eyes, hungry wolves,

but, it is not like that,

stones are overlooked tears,

hands are smoked glasses,

eyes are roads that always lead to the sea.

Yes, I have never known much.

I thought that liquid meant solid

that three meant two and a half,

that You meant I.

And instead,

liquid is almost solid,

three means the infinite,

We are the Others not knowing that They are Us.

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