BORN AGAIN
**Author: @nachomolina _(Original Poetry)_**And so for years the odyssey continued, each end a beginning, a thousand questions without answers, incessant, with their eagerness to continue towards the new birth...
Traveling in no man's land accompanied by sublime thought, without understanding beyond the obvious; the hardness of being alive, the reason of morning and reborn.
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Immersed in the shade, the black bird marks the direction with a flash.
The sun remained eclipsed, while he tried to interpret the whispering tone, the arrow girded on the bow always about to break through the barriers of the mind.
...until it was lost in the path leaving its mark on the sand
Images undulated by steam offered the optics of the past, intermittent memories rearranged his mind, was the only guide to the beginning of things.
With his ear stuck to the ground, the pulse of the earth perceptible as an echo, told him about the vestiges of an era...
Thus he arrived at the valley of melancholy, submerged in the gray mantle that gives refuge to the gods sheltered by his complaint.
... And he was the fourth horseman, shed his blood for the damned
_They spoke to him:
"What is the use of standing on the valley of death, if your spirit is still on your knees!"
"Do not bow before a false God when you are made in his likeness!"
With his gaze fixed on the ring of fire, he prayed each evening beside the mist of the sea; it was the ritual, that's how it was invoked...
It descended to the tunnels, volcanic extensions, inhabited by darkness and silence.
Leaving evidence about your skin; first reptile, then cetacean, now the inhospitable being...
Inside the vault was the fruit of a dream, Epiphany, with the cries of souls in pain, introduced to the earthly world between crystals, hardened for the sake of nature, diluted and refracted to give rise to quartz...
_Again the Gods:
"You are the rock, from you detach the continents, you are made of matter, nobody could walk without stepping..."
The secret is revealed in exchange for survival. To have witnessed the apotheosis in the inlet had a price...
The earth and its birth, around me, converted me into a message, I was struck down by the caress of my mother...
"Struck against the walls that cut my skin, harassed by the buzz of the wind in the swamp. The convergence of oxygen by pressing the chest, cracking my hands. I was held in the background, exorbitant, released into fragments. Prisoner denied the surrender, fed by spheres and evicted in the edge arch at the mercy of the cold."
It was just the beginning.
Losing consciousness gave respite to torture; he had to be stripped of all feeling, his soul was the pay...
But there was no place to harbor cowardice. He gave up the ghosts that flooded the plain, filtered the wild instinct in his ivory. He had ownership over the mountain range, he let them see the preservation of his world.
Now turned into a demon, it became part of every corner and every element.
"He endured the revelation of his gargoyles, became like the wind, melted into the rock, deciphered the code of the tree and the fish. The storm ceased with his mind, he calmed the ocean. Seduced to the inlet with its impetus and he became the owner of the atmosphere and the deflection of light."
Proving to be the owner, the step was opened, the battle fought against his own illusion.
The fears towards the world were bowed down,
living would have no obstacles, no laws, no opposition to his desire, his power over the wicked and his transition together with the truth.
_ "Now you are semantic, in your hand grasping the dagger, for generations you will be reborn in each word"
Flow in search of yourself. Disappear among crowds and return renewed.
To bring with it the truth and to propagate in the plexus its spectral birth, the enigma, the origin of a being one and hidden.
Captive in the immensity of the universe, among so many spiral barriers, blocks, discharges of fear, nuances of fire.
This was his birth, symbol of greatness and he understood why he came to this world,
He discovered his balance between the natural and the philosophical,
the don of transforming thought into the opposite of ambition.
Created with the fury of the elements, I was formed from mother earth,
with the power of thunder, with the broken heart of a laughing poet.
Birth of a man, birth of a hermit...
END
Thanks for your kind attention, I hope you enjoyed reading
@nachomolina
_**"Google translator was used"**_
"I appreciate your comment, your opinion is important"
