CONVERGENCE Poem by Fernando Rendón

Lying like pieces of wood, the red bark wrinkled, some rotting buffaloes melting on the
green prairie.

But also due to an inexplicable act of fate, lying like mushrooms in the grass we explore
all millennia, we run away from prehistoric beasts, we fought all the wars, we are
millions of beings stretching under the arch of eternity, while dragon and longing
engage in combat in the clouds.

The sun calls and to hesitate is to die. Fly, fly beautiful swan of desire, everything
can be achieved.

Walking on the white dew, take your shoes off: the age of a man is that of his look at
the legendary wood.