From the ravines of displacement,
Burying the sun of happiness under
Concrete-colored solitude;

From the year of hiding,
Lying in the rills of an old building,
Doing things incessantly;

From the energy of an army,
Focused in the fingers of a single person,
Doing things incessantly, mistaking
Approval as an attack.

Holding on is holy! The waves been
Slapping over the carpet of concrete
Of the vibrating city.
Displacement is holy!