Known.
Who can beleive himself as known?
There is so much inattention
We are crossing this universe
Being as opaque as a night
Only just we are brushing it
And it’s only just brushing us
The memory of us is and
Will only be distorsion,
Necessary stuttering,
Superficial misinterpretation.
Our words, the presence of our bodies
And gestures
Only will be remembered
As sketched fragmented tracks,
As fragments of interpretation.
Who can believe himself as known
There is so much carelessness
Towards others,
So few empathy,
So much hastly misunderstandings.
Each body is a skinbag
And each being,
A galaxy
Separated from its sisters
By abysses of light-years.
We lived as unknown
And we shall die as unknown,
There’s no proximity;
No, actually, there is nothing except coldness,
Cosmic indifference which is sowing
Separation
And language which is a felon
An untrue link that deludes
Us.
Patricia Laranco