we do not try that hard
enough
reality has muscles of its
own
when it sees us tired
and rotten
it begins to show its hands
to take us for
a ride
its feet pedaling with the wheels
of beautiful truths
in the gardens of this
universe
it is then when we become the
tourists
simply looking and enjoying
what reality
shows us
so relax, do not overwork yourself
with some chosen words
let the words do the trick
they are your slaves not your masters
let the chair stand on its own legs
move towards you
and then you sit as the windows open
themselves
as the sun finally arrives as the mountains
grow the trees and the greenest grass
so appeasing to your eyes
spectator, the star of the universe
the most important mortal
the chosen creature
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem