The writing is always a challenge to survival
She is an urgent call of presence
A deep vibration that brings all the realities
The writing is the release of all the being hidden in my lungs
The chord that I do not know how to play in the guitar or in the piano
The fundamental tune that comes to join everything that I am and everything
that is mine
The letters are that sour juice that allows me the life
The links of the strands that summarize my being and my existence
The commotion of the dreams that are drawn in the incessant blink of my
infinite brain
The writing searches for me and she knows how to find me from time to
time among inconsistencies
She forgives me, tunes me and overflows me
She recognize me all along my endless postponed humanity
She gives me back the few breath of being less than nothing in this unfathomable
and pale universe
In this continuous and never ending light that glides among the souls
of everything that has been, is today and comes after
She summarizes me, comforts me, multiplies me and breaks me
The writing remains me and at the same time she leaves me in the
precise instant when I write the period.
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