Forerunner
Soon after the musicians arrived with strange instruments
in their hands, music sounded so familiar and
fleeting, like the thief who came to grab precious stones
that belonged to us, the woman crossed her legs as if
to hide her secret and the maestro who waited anxiously
to find out what kind of smoke we smoked, got up and
hugged our wise friend. Then a fly, quite unexpectedly,
landed, like a queen on her throne, on the maestro’s skin,
who never understood the reason for such movement, but
said in a loud voice.
I’ve arrived here to entertain you. Fame had gone to
his head, there was no other explanation and we turned
our eyes toward the prophet who just whispered: music,
the language of the Universe.
I like him who is the forerunner of thunderbolt and
vanishes like the thunderbolt.
Libros Libertad 