Existence and identity

It is early, and I discover myself an inspired poetwhile, in this same moment, I am also the one who makes the bed.

I am the one who enjoys life standingin the doorway, looking out,

the one who listens to the dog bark,the one who feels the wind upon his face.

I am the one who accompanies life.

I am so small before the universe itself,so minute within that constant expansion,within that journey that seems infinite from here.

I am nothing within that immensity, and yetI am enormous in my capacity to love you,in my capacity to believe and create,infinite in possibility,with an immense desire to know more,even when I remain still,even when I sit beneath the skyand can feel how small I am and,at the same time, immense for being partof a great universal expression.Immense for containing stardustand being able to travel through the universe.

Immensely fortunate to turnwith the world without realizing it.Immense while walking across meadowsor mountains.

Great when standing before the grass, and also small.So small that a lightning bolt could end me,a virus undo me,a bacterium bring me to a halt.

Time is unaware of what you believe is happening orhas happened.Time is conscious only of its own time.Time knows time; it knows the space it occupies.Only you know your time.

A gaze offered in time,an embrace and a few wordsspoken in time may stop it,expand it, stretch it so farthat it resembles an infiniterope capable of tying together everythingthat is loose, or serving asa guide for the doubtsthat cling to it.Time could become threador a skein from which to weave an immense mantleuntil it finally covers thatmoment in which everything lies sheltered and joined.

Time made into a mantle becomes a sailto propel the boat of dreams,or the wing of those daring enough to leapinto the void and fly above everythingthat happens below.

Time is capable of becoming a cave,a refuge for ideas, and also a cragfrom which to see the distance between feelings.

Time takes my hand and lets me know it is there.

The moment will come to plunge into its instants,to submerge oneself in its inner spaceuntil crossing it completely and emerging on the other sideto take the fresh instant once again for what it is.

I know you understand nothingbecause there is nothing you need to understand.

Identity, that empty space we mayoccupy before leaving it behind like a shell.

Tertullian said:I believe because it is absurd.

Now I say it this way:I love because it is absurd,but I love, I love you, and it is absurd.

What will be born from the absurd?Faith. Recognizing you by your mostrepresentative features, by who you areat the most essential level.

Not by who I believe you are,not by how you see me,not by what we possess.We possess nothing.

We have only each other in faith,and it is absurd.

I believe my eyes, although at times they have deceived me;my hands, although at times they have deceived me.

I believe my words, although at times they have deceived me;my ears, although they too have deceived me.Above all, I believe my mouth because it has kissed you,and even knowing my sense of taste deceives me,I believe you.

Every day I can hear things creak;I can see the wrinkles in another.

I notice everyone’s small changes before me.

I would like to believe I am only observing and am not one of them.I feel incognito, though—why deny it?—I am the protagonist of the passing day, of the absurd moment,of the excessive effort to believe that is what I must do.

Why so much, when all I see are the wrinkles,the deep folds, the open pores,the grooves that cannot be disguised?

The days pass, and I no longer believe even my own tales;my love is gaunt, old, without emotion.

Perhaps, as long as I keep watching you age before my eyes,I may also realize that I too am an old man.

My life has slipped away in assumptions, in ideas that are not evenmine,working hard, surrendering my talent, alienated in the beliefthat you would recognize it.You will never be my mirror, although every dayyou remind me of it when I see myself in you.

I do not know. I only see before me that, although I believe nothing will happen,I see this and find myself again.

Time will not wait for you, nor for me.

I see damp bitterness;I breathe deeply, still.

I see damp bitterness;buzzing pierces my silence,sensations crowd togetherwith no way out, held backuntil I sob and there emergesa broken meaning.

Silence sounds like wind,moans against the leaves,slips underneathuntil it lies prostrate.

Nothing warms;the cold can be felt.I sigh, filled with fear,and close my eyes into blackness.

I see damp bitterness;I breathe deeply, still.

And so, suddenly, one morning a few days ago,the news arrived. You have just begun a new stage of life.

From today forward, your body is no longer the sameand you must care for it differently.The announcements arrived just in time.

Then, a couple of days later, another revelation.The adult with my inner child askingfor attention from outside is over.

Now, consciously, I am my own father,and whatever has been missing, I am here to create it.

The time past has, just now, been left somewhere else. Thetransition ended, and a new skin emerges.

The second half of my life has begunafter a period of gestation.

Sometimes we are like children in adult bodies.We throw tantrums or feel abandoned,as when someone arrived late to pick us up as children.

Incredible: an event that seems so smallcan feel immense within us.We would like to be loved and tenderly held forever,as when we were children, but now we are adults.

Now it is our turn to be our own parents and receivefrom ourselves the affection or attention we lackedand can now recognize.

Now it is time to recognize the tantrum and let it pass.Within us lies the possibility of giving ourselvesthe care we need, just in time.

The attention we desire so deeply is in our ownhands.

Now that we are adults, our inner child knowseverything will be all right,and with luck, we will begin to relateto others as we did when we were children—playing and curious—accompanied by our inneradult, who will contribute experience and perspective.

We consciously know there are many optionsfor caring for ourselves.

When you do what you love,it seems to me the world does not disappear.

I do not forget it or stop worrying about it.When you do what you love, I faithfully believe

the entire world is present there with you.There is nothing to worry about because it isexpressing itself in what you do.

When you do what you love,the noise, the thoughts,the worries, the fears,the resentments are joined withthe loves, the great moments,the memories, the things forgotten.

Everything comes together as one;they are one, doingwhat you love most.