(Second Phase: After-God-zero)
To Vicente Huidobro
And to my parents...without whom the "creation" would not have been possible...
In the beginning of the beginning,
was the void,
was it the void?
No, the unbearable,
the vertigo, no!...
It has been the fullness,
in the beginning;
fullness, has it been?
No satisfied completion,
I'm going to tell you,
that without even being,
I saw a space of nothing
and of everything
in love with each other;
the nothing and the everything were the same
mixed up through space-time...
In a wedding bed of matter and anti-matter
that whispered its rejection;
the discourse of energy had to be listened to;
the mega-atom kissing its child,
and the perpetual love of the cycle.
They taught me
to see my fingerprints
and to discover that they are galaxies
Right then, I leapt for joy!
Cosmic reality allowed me to see
The interminable, eternal changing,
and even seeing ideas that are
"ovule ships, changed
by hunted sperm
into stars of their own light"
But I had a dream
before my dream.
Metaphysical garlands adorned
the wide ways of the cosmos,
and the sighs of things
wanted to touch the dawn.
Time, still eyeless,
rose and lowered, downwards
all was made since forever,
the crown of light of the infinigenesis.
The creation always throbbed,
it was eternally facing clarity,
raising prophetic arms to greet
each one of its future stellar speeches
would bathe the atmosphere in unveiled dreams.
When centuries of centuries of centuries had passed,
the beings, kneeling in emotion,
would wait for the message,
while every piece of ruined heaven
fell uselessly onto reason.
The nothing, alone and sad, embraced
its nothing and everything was given, because
everything was forever;
it was the shivering of faraway stars
which would play the trumpets of goodbye.
Each perfect centimetre of universal creation
danced with emotion, soaked in the celestial smile.
All breath like curtains covered the wedding bed
in fantasy: and fantasy, clutching my future
non-existent thought, cried but
it cried in silence...
In time to come I let imagination overflow,
but, naked before the creativity of the cosmos,
I fell silent, I fell silent.
In the cosmographic love
there was a mundinovi
of the cosmogeny of the cosmogony,
it is the declaration of the principle
of the infinite lover...
He saw her, naked, seated
with her legs open
her silken love barely covered,
playing a quasar violin.
I saw how she undressed with sighs
her celestial body
and how burning blue lactation gushed
from her swollen breasts
and from her sex in the midst of the universes
all the shivering sidereal emotion was fashioned.
And it was then
that the Cosmos, the whole rhythm
of the perpetual succession of galactic doctrines,
broke her hymen by cosmogenesis
and amongst the voyaging ova that
were changing into stars of their own light
and sperm that would become shooting stars,
gave her all the love of Love, like the
mega heart that produces gravity,
that flirts with spatial relativity, and
thus everything was given
without beginning and without end...
Already now you can see in his beginnings
smiling stars passing
through the paths of all the firmaments
of the cosmos.
Contemplate his melancholy;
you'll see how his eyes shed
slow luminous tears.
The infiniteheat dust/seed
is what seems to be frozen souls;
but it is he alone who knows its secrets;
go to the stars, orbiting, to ask them
if the spirit exists...
Don't let yourself
go without knowing first
that you must live above in the distant Earth
to go down to heaven early.
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