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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