The one that crosses your soul
with dire memories,
of a desert time…

The one that rises to the wind,
dividing the clouds,
in this battered sky…

This one that divides,
and that demonstrates,
that wakes you up…
of the eternal and absurd dream…

The one that tears
the one that extols…
on shoulders of spite…

That is the wise sword,
the one that goes beyond your comfort…
This one that falls and climbs…
it’s just
the sword of time…