blog 009 - Ouroboros (poem)

Ouroboros written by pablo 

And remember, everything straight comes to rest.

Every skill, which moves away from being a resounding scruple.

Ends in the same place it departed—

Four walls, crucifying a self; highly homogeneous.
Probable witness to the impregnated smell of fire.
Which persists not only in loss, but in its absence in translation.
Because if it falls, the one who occupies it will too.

Thus, it is the perimeter of the small space; a forceful corner.

Stranded by five senses, shipwrecked on the same axis.

Being a plain to lie in ephemeral comfort.

Where the only purpose would be to venture into the depths of the black eye.

Discarded verses  (why not)

The insightful are too straight to follow the calligraphy.

And to do so, a train would bend when setting sail due to the magnitude of the load.

Engendering navigation, an action contrary to that of a train.

Where, in the extraction of knowledge, I would discover that within the four wall there is no homogeneous self--incapable of being and rest.