Why I don't say goodbye

 WHY I DON'T SAY GOODBYE

I sacrificed the necessary weight for a walk without agitation, for the stumble without due attention in vain searches far from real satisfaction. I left and kept leaving, with my steps restrained in the heat of winter, at the wrong or right time. I left, but not like the last time; I left again, without saying goodbye to anyone.

What do I gain from the shake of the wind that brings and takes me, that blurs my ideas between the hazy smoke of dusk and the blazing sun that comes and goes with such calm and readiness? Upon realizing that the body decays, but not the soul, I slowly distanced myself, I consciously faded away.

I told everyone with my silence: I am sick and persistently continue, intoxicating myself, cooling my steps on the road towards dawn. Realizing that something connects me to this place, something makes me want to leave and feel the desire to return. Even always finding the difference, the negligence, and the dryness of the cracked soil and the distant, scarred heart.

I cannot look into the eyes of what I was, I cannot meditate on the cold far from the icy warmth that guides my steps from Acre to the Sacred Valley. I feel the lightness in the gaze of the child, who smiles delicately as the chair rocks and rocks. I see myself leaving while I see that something remains, that something still grows and, in its time, develops, in its time upon realizing the illusion of death.

It's not hard to face oneself; hard is to recognize in oneself the monster and the blessed, the nightmare and the enchanted dream... And within this equation of two equal sides, I add both sides to find some result. While the landscape changes, while we observe the brief arrival of spring. My brothers are not far away; they are united in the same thoughts, and connected by the same feelings.

Union in adversity, within the existing bodies, within the sovereignty of the enveloping hymns, I felt my detachment, I felt the cut and the rupture. Leaving thus apart from everything, stepping on firm ground but with my feet in another direction. I am here, but I am not; I am there, and from here I also feel your pain. Because your suffering is also mine, your disgrace is also mine, and we remain together and better when we enter into harmony.

Because before rebuilding the walls, it is necessary to synchronize the devices. Rebuilding within each one the hidden, dirty, and repressed sanctuary. For vanity will tempt your ears, and the ego will rise as an enemy. And if necessary, destroy to rebuild, die to life, so that Life may be reborn in you, so that we can, in Truth, come together and share in the same rhythm the celestial wisdom we receive in our hymns.