Blinking

Everything changes in a blinking.

At the beginning, we are brave. We sink in the oceans that the rain creates on the floor, we burn down the streets in order to face up the fire. We’re not afraid of crying if we fall, because immediately we rise, even if we believe that we have all the time in our hands. Hands cover of wounds of war; they’re not important, we always have a Guardian Angel who heals them.

Our battles fight off bombs and water guns, and the conflicts are resolved with kisses and hugs. They last a couple of hours, maybe a day. However we prefer to laugh. We don’t build walls to isolate ourselves nor to destroy ourselves; the walls are canvas that are used to paint our dreams.

Because we don’t dream when we are sleeping, we never want to go to sleep, we are never tired… we want to keep living a little more, taking advantage of those ephemeral moments even if we don’t know that they will end in a blinking.

But we must close our eyes for a moment, And, when we open them, everything has changed.

Our Guardian Angel has abandoned us and nobody heals our wounds, they are no longer made of mud, they don’t heal in a day. The floor is made of pavement, the place where the world ends and keeps our feet tied.

We don’t fly anymore, we don’t conquer volcanos or universes, we walk carefully, afraid of what we can find around the corner. The time comes to an end, slipping through our fingers and is never enough.

We accumulate battles and we don’t win any of them, because we don’t want to fight and give up. Suddenly we stop, without taking another step, without wanting to know what’s on the other side

Because on the other side there is just a white wall with our dreams painted on it, now unrecognizable for those eyes that look at them.

We dream. We always dream. But, when we open our eyes, everything has changed.

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Inspired in the poem 1910 written by Federico García Lorca.

 

 

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