Conduciendo de vuelta hacia nosotros mismos.
La última frontera es nuestro corazón.

No puede ser feliz quien entierra un tesoro.
No puede ser feliz
quien envenena el agua de su vida.

Hace falta la noche para ver las estrellas.

Night is purer than day; it is better for thinking and loving and dreaming. At night everything is more intense, more true. The echo of words that have been spoken during the day takes on a new and deeper meaning. The tragedy of man is that he doesn’t know how to distinguish between day and night. He says things at night that should only be said by day.

There is something in the human spirit that will survive and prevail, there is a tiny and brilliant light burning in the heart of man that will not go out no matter how dark the world becomes.

Take me to your trees. Take me to your breakfasts, your sunsets, your bad dreams, your shoes, your nouns. Take me to your fingers.

The way we see the problem is the problem.

All people dream, but not equally.
Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their mind,
Wake in the morning to find that it was vanity.

But the dreamers of the day are dangerous people,
For they dream their dreams with open eyes,
And make them come true.

Do not seek the because - in love there is no because, no reason, no explanation, no solutions.

(In my sleep I dreamed this poem)

Someone I loved once gave me
a box full of darkness.

It took me years to understand
that this, too, was a gift.

I miss everything. I miss talking to her, hearing about her day. I miss her voice all gravelly and smoky, I miss hearing her laugh, I miss getting her letters, writing her letters. I miss her eyes, and the smell of her hair, and the way her breath tasted. I fucking miss everything. I miss knowing she was around, because it helped me to know that she was around, someone like her existed. I guess most of all, I miss knowing I would see her again. I always thought I’d see her again.

I exist in two places,
here and where you are

And then I felt sad because I realized that once people are broken in certain ways, they can’t ever be fixed, and this is something nobody ever tells you when you are young and it never fails to surprise you as you grow older as you see the people in your life break one by one. You wonder when your turn is going to be, or if it’s already happened.

ya sé, ya sé el secreto del abismo
que descubrir quisiera …
es el mismo, es el mismo
que lleva el pensador dentro del pecho:
la rebelión, la duda, la agonía
del corazón en lágrimas deshecho!.

¿Por qué lucha el mortal, y ama, y espera,
y ríe, y goza, y llora y desespera,
si todo, al fin, bajo la losa fría
por siempre ha de acabar?