Unknowing.

A cold rainy evening in Santiago,
while they are probably having dinner
al fresco in New York.

My grandson Alejandro carries
a name too big for a child.
I am sad but I am not,
contradictory love.

My son Mantoy,
listens his last songs
with me at home.
We also listen with respect
to Amy Winehouse.
Not for her death,
but for her life.

He thinks that now
I am writting in an english
that I don't command,
because I don't want my feelings
to be understand.
He may be right.
But if he was not?

Life is not short.
Every second counts.
In any given second,
all the happiness
and all the pain
one can feel,
may be felt.

Any burden is long.
Happy moments, short.
It doesn't matter.
They can be recalled.

Time is always gone.

What counts is now.
Not for doing things,
or goals to be attained.
Just to be retained
by what happens outside.

In those marvelous seconds,
while the self is forgotten,
watching a movie,
reading a poem,
or silently sharing moments,
the self finally forgotten,
one is like God.

Because, as Dali says:
One doesn’t need anything or anyone,
doesn’t know where one comes from,
or where one goes.
One is not doing but being.
And being plenty what one is,
for good,
is being happy,
I guess……