DELPHI Poem by Fernando Rendón

I inhabit a zone of light rays and revelations. The oracle still speaks. I for my part do not
listen to it. I do not follow its warnings.

I refused to be initiated. I never repeated aloud what I heard from the mouth of the
torment. I fought against the angel. Because they chained the human spirit to the abyss,
I looked down on religions. Because of the devastating massacres that without respite
brought down the naked certainty in life, I put myself on guard against the nature of the
states. Because I saw thousands fall, I knew that the pact of human indifference
triumphed provisionally.

No doubt this is the time of the end, they proclaim, something as formidable as its
emergence: the sinking of the continents.

I endure the pressure of the darkness forged by the human imagination in the rapture of
an age already without a heaven. I already know I will be invisible. And even though a
while ago a flash of lighting unloaded its anger of white roots, filling my log cabin with
dense energies, I will unflinchingly turn a deaf ear to the oracle, for I will still love the
men that suffer and the peoples that resist, I will hear the sweet voices of the stones and
the trees that call us to the return, the secret language of the birds of the first day to
which the states and the gods have been deaf for many centuries.