We are history.
      from the heavenly king,
      to the useless trash.

Everything with a past.
      from sights and smells,
      to their stone built hells

We are the future
      Instantaneous revolutions,
      with no clear path.

Beauty in the uncertainty,
  cosmos out of chaos

We are facts,
      for the future.
      images to be recalled
      numerous as the leaves of grass.

Symbolic memories
      future generalizations

Lost in the overflow…

Bound to be swallowed
      by the desert of history
      within every grain a memory

    sand has a past
depends if the sieve catches

Staring through a window at
branches against the white sky.

Like tributaries of a river,
the trees life flows like water.

Stare long enough the windows
begin to shake and blur.

Everthing gets distorted.
Besides the branches, the tributaries,
the water that flows from it and
the water that falls from it.

Focal point of vision unaffected,
the details that surround hazy, unclear.

Close ones eyes to see that
veins of the eye and branches of the tree
go together intermittenly.