http://zonaliteratura.com . ar /? page_id = 895
When the world ceases to be the world. When the light is only a blinding halo. When land deserted look and people inhabit caves in the beginning of time. When ground water is deposited in small pools, where the night takes a day for assault. When the fight in the name of their gods have destroyed the world. When cities have been made invisible. When there are no birds, no trees ... people will have lost his memory. His eyes behind will be just a paper.
Then shall they and them, the guardians of memory, arranged by way of old oracles in the highest places. Barefoot and parched by the dead land, with sleepy eyes. Its mission is to remind the past life. Because only they will be responsible for safeguarding the memory of his words.
People approach them as thirsty for water to continue living. I touch the face, caress your eyes, surrender to his feet and asked loudly to hear about the grandparents of their grandparents, those who inhabited the land. The guards, who were removed from the vision of this world, may look away, until the beginning of time. I remember the colors, roads, valleys, songs, in their words will populate the earth again, he painted the trees, rivers snaking around the mountains. The birds will fly away forms a blue sky they never knew. Will his grandparents and grandparents of their grandparents raising their hands to heaven surrendering to the majesty of nature, will play and be reborn in their smiles.
satiated then recall both return to their caves and sleep peacefully in mind the existence of that life. The next morning will rise looking towards the top of the hills covered with black earth and dream again when stroking the faces of the guards and take their children at the foot of the hills, looking back to life. They no longer seek to divine the future to know the life that awaits them. Need to remember the past to live knowing.
And there are the guards, taking endless lines of people from all over the world, asking them to remember the past. Be woven endless skeins of words, remembering all lives and all roads and all the dreams and all places and all the faces and all desires and all the songs. There will be ...
0 comments:
Post a Comment