Crazy monkeys in stampede

The sound of waves waving the air with claws of ancient voices ... Everything makes sense at times, a comforting clarity of doubts, accommodated among so many years ... qualities of hermitage hidden among deep corals would I say.

Turning the page ..., painful experience of submitting demons, hiding from the edge of memory. Sometimes the effort matches the memory and oblivion is the reward.

Back on the beach, lined up on the shore waiting for the right tone. The foam rises to my heart and I am no longer a man, I am a leaf floating to the horizon, wrapped in the uncertainty of the sunset, accumulating treasures between empty pockets, trying to climb the next breeze that hastens my fate.

A grain of sand surrounded by sand, a tiny sigh wrapped in hurricanes, so goes the story, heartbreaking, random, full of furious will.
Awareness is a game of curious boxes, keys lost in disorder. With the vaiven of the galaxies around many things do not matter, they have neither one nor two dimensions, but none. In order to return meaning by chance, a colossal lever in the bottom of life is needed, clutching with prehistoric teeth, it takes a rested value that obviates the ironic will of the gods, and is that the call of the sand is desolate, to see there piled together is enlightening, touching. It has an encrypted message of silicon and silence. Escarbar does not have any direction, only the certainty of successive walls, secret and weak walls.

The secret is anonymity, silence, afternoons on the balcony catching shifting sunsets, letting themselves be carried away by conformism, the acceptance that surrounds no action, inertia, forced adaptation by the medium, by the curious society and suffocating. I do not fit this portrait, this role of multitude, of sand, of scattered galaxies and in flower, I do not fit these second anonymous, this parsimonious march of centuries aligned.

What another alternative is left but to undertake the history with open arms, full of virtue, wanting to love and be loved, wanting to unravel consciousness and take it to the edge of the ocean, where I stand today, right here where the foam has a soft and repetitive language, where the message is one , indescribable.

And as I watch my footprints on the shores disappear with the surf, a sarcasm draws a half smile on my cloudy face ...

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