The sun rises again,

as if the night had not been enough.

As if was preferred the near to the far.


The sun rises once again,

and the being leaves its dark bewitchment, without memories,

and blinks the first sounds,

tastes the first visions

and immediately remembers and programs, calculates…


Night is left as a strange memory.

Better the close sun

than millions and millions of far away suns.


And also… it is necessary to remember

that sun-rise implies to be born to “the Love”, once again!

Once again?

Yes! Once again…

as if … reinforcing what there was, what is remembered;

as if highlighting what is to come;

as if resuscitating what seemed hidden or dead!;

as if rehabilitating that lost kiss

that… was not capable of being recognised.


“Sun-rise”, like swaying…

in the warm blanket of the freshness of the morning,

to whisper words of kindness –ay!-…

breaths of sweetness…, nectar of infinity…


Sun-rising… with those textures!,

the light becomes sweetness!,

the clarity becomes splendour!,

the blaze becomes a call of affection and distinction.



just being born, loving,

the world seems small!...

the affections claim impression!...

A glance or a close encounter is not sufficient!

or a brush or a “hello” or “goodbye”.



The light illuminates the silhouette of the loved,

it is lived as if awaited, as manna!,

as if thirsty and hungry from long sessions in the desert.


Vibrating with emotions,

the being is on the look out for whatever sign or whatever detail

that could be loving!


that could be distinguished;

without delayed pains,

with fantasies of eternities

that, although are not known, it is known that they are there;

that, although they become large and extended!, they are not going to tire.

Rather, the opposite: they are going to generate us anxiety.


So much grandness, for this pinch of human misery!

So much splendour and gifts!, for this human doubt and anger.

So many… carefull, unpredictable and gifted surprises!,

for this doubtful and landlord-like humanity.


Shame of being born, is felt

when the gifts of the Eternities adorn us.

Because what is pending is so much

and what there is left to do is almost impossible

that it would be better to hide oneself.


But, no. There is no hiding place in life.

There is no place where the Mystery does not surround you.

Faced with it you cannot justify yourself.

Faced with all that you are offered,

they have offered you and they will offer you,

you cannot ‘become-worse’.


You are surrounded and you are surrounded and they surround you… without asphyxiation!, without imposition;

with evidence!, with transcendence, with illusion.

And certainly they sustain and encourage you…

so that you reply in the same frequency;

that you tune in with the greatness;

that you give thanks to!…the never ending evidence.



Yes! It is free! You don’t have to pay taxes.

You don’t have to have more or to be more.



The attitude of feeling that I am flooded by Mercy!,

that gives gifts to me, that adorns me,

that carries me, that extols me.


Inevitably arises the care!:

the care that I have to have when the wakefulness floods me…

because the never ending lies in wait for me to make larger my path;

to exult my ideals.


Showered by gifts… and, with those, by surprise!...

that we perceive and that we carry and that we promote!


Like this it should be: With Grace!

Ingratiated with so much and so much…

And with a humour of persistence.

That the happiness does not have to hide!;

that the pleasurable does not have to be ashamed!;

that the smile does not be a grimace.


Ay! That we are as is the… sunrise,

with the slowly,

the self-confidant vertigo of the silhouettes that are not distinguished.


“Sunrise-ingly’ gifted.

Why do you award me such joy?


Will they believe in you? Will they believe in your resources?

Do they await your acclamations?

You haven’t noticed…

that the universes are waiting for you!, for you!, for you!…

Not because you are important, but because you are an exception.


No. There is no place for the vulgarity.

No. There is no place to say “I am no good for”. No, no, no…

There is no place to under estimate yourself.

You are an exceptional exception.

What ever alienation that you do with it

disturbs the Universes;

like this they are now:

disturbed and… confused…

for so much, so much disloyalty!


So you have to “exercise yourself…,

like when the trumpet calls

or the bell rings, or the siren warns.


They call you…to exercise exceptionally,

to be a unison of eternal sunrises.

Whatever fleeing is a failure!;

whatever negligence, clumsiness!;

what ever criticism, an aversion.


Yes, the Gifted, Creator and Mystery,

also generates clear sentences!…

Without tricks, bluntly.

Straight up like reflectors, like precise viewers.


And, in each call, there is so much service!,

so much availability of resources!…

that each called being -that is all of us!-…

can notice the plenitude of its essence.


It is not allowed to devalue oneself! It is not allowed to under estimate oneself!

There is no place for the indifference.

To live is to commit… inside… and inside!

There is no “outside”. There is no exterior nor interior. There is “inside”!


There is “inside”… in souls!

In souled souls that claim a kiss, a poem, a verse…

In souled souls that respect their skin and figure,

but -ay, ay!-… they are vaporous, beautiful, splendid.

And as such, there is no… parapet to manipulate them.

There is no justification to mistreat them!,

to mistreat… others!


The need for communion becomes urgent.

The urgency for communication becomes pressing.

The sincere embrace becomes urgent.

It becomes pressing … the urgent hand that supports.

It becomes urgent. Later is to late!… After it is not there!


It becomes soon, very soon…

sun-rising and sun-rising…

so that, when they say it is late,

be it a sunrise… with experience, with ease

with innocent devotion.


It’s become urgent…

It become urgent for

when it is sunset, it never be to late,

rather it be… the soft and evident experience

of the Presence of presences that cultivates us!,

that captivate us!, that move us!...

It becomes urgent. “Later” is too late. It’s not there.


Yes! And it is so easy to be self sufficient…

Ay! It is so easy!... to take banal decisions…

And it is so easy!... to lose oneself without foundation…

And it is so easy to abandon the foundations…

And it is so easy to “destroy”…

that each step… becomes misfortunate

that each proposal… becomes dishonour,

because it is so easy…!


Created with freedom,

Each one put freely here…

that is so easy… to disdain the received!,

that is so easy to promise without complying,

that is so easy to pretend to be distracted…

so easy!... to negate the candle that softly lights…

It is so easy… to forget, it is so easy!...

that it causes vertigo only thinking about it.

That casts shadows over… the sunrise.


It is so easy… to be dragged, to be convinced,

To be promised, to be sworn!…

It is so easy… thinking you are following what is sure!...

that it is difficult to imagine

the unsure pleasure of the Mystery.

It is so easy, later, to complain!...

it is so easy, later, to ask for forgiveness!...

It is so easy to repent!…


Will it be to late…?


The abuse!… is so easy

The abuse of… of having…

The abuse of… possessing…

The abuse of exercising

-as an army!-

power and power and power and power….

that, with insisting in it, the path is left rotten,

without genealogy, without descendants;

with uncompleted bitterness that claims,

-as if it was a right-



At the same time as they contemplate us, there are no contemplations.

This could seem strange…

It could even seem unjust…


It could even seem cruel that,

adducing so many imperfections,

it is not tolerated…


vanity and attempts… and “lets see” are not tolerated…

And so why does the sun rise!?

“We’ll see”.

And why does the sun rise then?


The abuse is so handy…

the fraud is so handy, the prejudiced valuation…

the free will is so handy

and the egotism and the idolatry!... between everybody…

it is so handy,

that the hands are only used for its cultivation;

for its cultivation of statues, images,

possessions, belongings, securities!…

Ah! “securities”!


The abuse is so handy

and the claim for prebend and rights…

so handy!... that it becomes cement;

that becomes hard structures… burdened with weight,

incapable of advancing.

But they become claims… and demand royalties…



Ay!, as a “complaint”.

Ay!, as a complaint… about lost humanities.

Because, for each exception that is lost…

an Eternity unsettles!.


Ay!... Ay with the Ay!...

One must be without complaints,

one must continue without complaint …

with the infinite compromise of living…

with the magnificence of resources that claim their utility

and that are immediately seen!...

when the egotism and the personal importance is abandoned

and the demands of “doing what I want”!,

and the unnecessary justice.


Yes. Ay!... There are!...

Much more than what we could think or imagine… there is.

There is infinitely more than more!...

that cannot be measured nor weighed.

And all of this is…

at the disposition of the extraordinary of everybody;

of the exceptional of each being.







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