It happened that things got destroyed with no surviving trace of him Poem by Daniel Faria

It happened that things got destroyed with no surviving trace of him
And it was late.
Alone didn't use to mean having no one near
And what hurt him didn't have the cysts of a disease
Just the placid space of things left behind.
It happened that nothing was done without
His heart.
It happened that he would spend all night opening his eyes
So as not to be interrupted
Stretching out his hand so as to be alive
And knowing that not even he would get close to himself
For he had diligently worked at being absent.
Even if he walked very slowly
Which was his only way of hoping to be visited.
He who is now the man who never rested
Who will never find the place of peace
Unless there is equilibrium in vertigo
A steady light in the midst of the whirlwind.