There was a temple
where we can fly and light our destiny.
Now I’m only a messenger
of solitude voice, eternity rain
always seeking us to be aside of limit.
Long distances made us build
engines and machines, but not life.
So the light became shadow
inside of us… I’m only a messenger
of this ruin time called XXI century.
My approach is nearby an unusual tongue
of broken languages of sins and flesh and ashes
and all that we despite being what we are
here where the history is ending as a sinful lie.
I can’t beside speak about anything
and always is in my mind a name
broken my self, finishing my present,
a kind of believe, a kind of road, a kind
of naming this vocal inflection.
So I felt down every day
over the face of suns
killed by our race, and this is all
what I can be, this verse truly false.
Are anybody going to release my soul
of the strength of forgiveness? Should I continue
this path and journey to the mouth of the time?
What I can tell is what I don’t know, now
is today always the falling down to suns of silence.
Categorías:Rómulo Pardo Urías escribe