The air you breathe
when you go outside.
That you breathe in when you’re sleeping.
The same air you breathe
if you stay awake.
That you breathe out when you walk
beyond the street corners
without realizing
the importance of staying alive.
The particles of your heart
in the muscles of life.
The tranquility of time
in the monotony that envelops you.
What remains and advises you.
What touches and overcomes you.
What you can and cannot see
but you understand.
The air accompanies you
while an invisible hand
envelops you at a short distance
from that which shines in the morning
and remains adrift
and languishes later in the day.
When you sleep
without contemplating death
attended by complete darkness
that opens the windows to the day
so it can air out the room
and remove flavor
from the consciousness of the scent of the night.
The scent that inhabits you
receiving nothing in return
and envelops you on the inside
with the passing of the days
like a nonexistent water lamp
or a jug of enveloping light
that left an innocent hand
in the path
to resuscitate life
without the power of thought
at every instant
or the invocation to the passing
of present time.

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