domingo, 30 de septiembre de 2012

A New Era

I thought seriously on hiding in the corn field.
Looks easy to get lost inside it, but what few know is how
uncomfortable it is the dry soil that stays under the soft-
looking green.
As with the wheat, that presents itself as a wavy oceanic
bed, and it is just a trick so you will jump on it and then
hit the rocky ground.
A New Era is coming. Everybody is getting prepare for
it, even if they fight over and over against letting us
realise. But it is obvious; a New Era approaches us, either
we are ready or not we are getting swallowed into it.
Sin/remedio.
We thought that era would come when we will grow so old
than the smell of death will avoid becoming afraid of this
unpleasant situation. But, it is so close than we can still
smell our own baby diapers; quite ironic.
So, I thought seriously on hiding into the corn field, it
would take them a lot of effort to find me.
(Would I be able to take roots into that hostile soil?)
And even if they find me, they would have to run over the
rocky ground. Nobody can beat me at that, anyway. I have
been running over that kind of surfaces for 27 years.
And I am not so afraid either of the new era, either of
death scent. I am afraid of being found hiding on the corn
field and being dragged out of my ideal hideout.
I thought seriously on jumping out of the car while Fin cd
was sounding and that lady poet, that didn´t look like a
poet at all, and the photographer were talking nonsense
kind of chat. I thought on jumping out of the car, and
hiding inside the corn field as the New Era was approaching
and they were wasting their time not enjoying they are
artists.
And I was wasting mine envying them.
A New Era is coming, and I am only afraid of being wasting
my time hours, minutes, seconds before my death.
I had a friend who used to say I was like Alice´s rabbit
with the time holding always my hand. (And not in the other
way around)
We never thought of the possibility of the End of the World
as we know it, so we continue living like there will be
thousands and thousands of tomorrows.
But what if there are not. What if there aren´t anymore.
Don´t try to convince me it wouldn´t mind in that case, as
we will be living always seconds before it happens, and
feeling also seconds before it happens.
So we will suffer before it happens.
Or now that I twisted these thoughts, might be that I feel
relieve.

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The Black Booster by Beatriz Bañuelos Marco is licensed under a Creative Commons Reconocimiento-NoComercial-SinObraDerivada 3.0 Unported License.
Creado a partir de la obra en http://cleaysus3.blogspot.com.es.
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