“Traffic signs”
Diverging roads born in the center
Of everything and nothing.
There the reason and insanity,
Same womb, same mother,
Different destinies.
An arrow pointing up,
Directly to hell,
Where the flames and hate,
Glorious feeling of pain.
Another arrow to the east,
There the desert,
Isolation and solitude,
Echoes of lonely souls.
One more arrow, the west,
Vast oceans of tears,
Dried eyes and crazy minds,
Sunk hearts in liquid suffer.
Other arrow, downwards,
Cloudy spirits praying
To their God of wars and death,
A miracle of power in the wrong hands.
The last arrow to the middle,
The eye of the thundering storm,
Hurricane of lies and rain of envy,
The never coming calm.
Martín Ochoa.
12/Ago/07
Diverging roads born in the center
Of everything and nothing.
There the reason and insanity,
Same womb, same mother,
Different destinies.
An arrow pointing up,
Directly to hell,
Where the flames and hate,
Glorious feeling of pain.
Another arrow to the east,
There the desert,
Isolation and solitude,
Echoes of lonely souls.
One more arrow, the west,
Vast oceans of tears,
Dried eyes and crazy minds,
Sunk hearts in liquid suffer.
Other arrow, downwards,
Cloudy spirits praying
To their God of wars and death,
A miracle of power in the wrong hands.
The last arrow to the middle,
The eye of the thundering storm,
Hurricane of lies and rain of envy,
The never coming calm.
Martín Ochoa.
12/Ago/07
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