The torment of that vision

had become an occupation.

It was an exercise of pain,

almost a diabolic revelation.

The past seemed to trace charades

in the sea-sand as he walked along

the shore.

-He was the most grotesque of creatures-

He had measured his own abyss several times,

thinking about that kiss and the mystical line

he had drawn around her.

The terrible truth was that he had witnessed

her crime. She had profaned air, burnt his

soul, sickened his hopes.

It was a hallucination: he was overwhelmed

by his innocent blindness.

The kiss had met his eyes, dissolved the ground,

wounded his masculinity forever.

He knew her sanctity had been carved from

black clouds. He knew he had to live with what

remained in him:

his powerlessness, his stained acceptance of

failure and fate.

Karla Bardanza

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