Published by Óscar Preciado on September 12, 2024 in:
Literature, Science, Art, Destiny, Colaterales, Poetry.
The price no one is willing to pay
To be able to contemplate everything, perhaps, with absolute discretion, places the backdrop of the most silent and untamed instincts of humanity in a distant extension, little consequential with the movement of blood.
One writhes before the narrative of being able to transcend aspects of the mind, like the ability to recall an idea or a feeling lodged in a certain moment of continuity, as if anticipating what is possible to yearn for and yet remains far from the reach of one's deepest desires.
Destiny, as the conclusion of a series of events that compress upon themselves at the limit of linearity, suggests the possibility of knowing the sum of outcomes as long as we know the variables that tamper with its intrinsic nature.
But to all its effects, an external factor is added that, personally and methodically, I would catalog as the burden: a pain of immense proportions that entails the anticipated experience of the agony of all things and the impossibility of redirecting that metamorphosis (to which matter is naturally subjected) towards another outcome.
Almería, Spain 2023
Although I began writing this poetry collection more than ten years ago and the gentleness of time only allows, as a constant, the metamorphosis of everything, the expressions that come from the gut can arise eventually, as in this case, to bring closer the definition of pain in the face of full knowledge of a destiny.
Understanding time
Like an unbearable déjà vu
from which one cannot disengage
not even for an instant
its miseries and its grandeur.
Coup de grâce
You are my Russian roulette,
the gun that would blow my brains out…
or the bullet that would redeem my existence.
Farewell
I saw myself in her gaze,
it was harder for me to leave than any human being can plan.
Her eyes emanated a pain of incalculable magnitudes,
but it was late,
it always was,
the journey had begun
and although we had filled our mouths with goodbyes,
our eyes still found no way to say farewell.
And it hurt to contemplate her gaze through the glass
and it hurt to see myself reflected in her eyes fleeing without her.
Then I knew: some things hurt for a minute,
others for a couple of hours…
and some others for a lifetime.
Fragments from Cielos de alquitrán