And then they will tell us:
arm yourself with patience,
and this time we will be obedient until the bone,
and we will be armed to the teeth.
Outfitted in this cosmic globe
between the nothingness and anything,
we will prepare ourselves to resist fate and time.
The brief blade of a throb
into the bottom of an abysm.
The gentle touch of a sigh
on the surface of a silence.
We will arm ourselves with patience
in the trench of dreams depleted
for death, for the sidereal fire devourer
of horizons, straightened up on the fatuous becoming
of the illusion and word.
May others shake their throat
on the edge of the tyrannical reality.
May others dance flapping their quivering wings
facing the insufferable hurricane of waiting.
Armed with patience let us open fire
to left and right,
against heaven and earth,
before the last reserve
be consumed into the blazing fire
of a rhetoric imbued of promises
and fairytales for going to bed.