Soon

 

Soon... soon, with the consciousness of arriving, of winning, of having... the being becomes insatiable.

Soon one gets tired of doing, and very soon... one starts to "try everything". And very soon one "tries" doing everything. And in each attempt it gathers a fraction or a great failure; because in the attempt is the reserve of "something", just in case it fails what should be felt to be done, but one feels half-hearted.

Soon, soon, half measures do not soak the nib, and soon one stops writing, soon you stop writing the significant, the unforeseen.

Oh! How soon, how soon one sins, and the being repents. So soon, so soon!, that, what yesterday was an agony, soon today becomes to life again.

Oh! How soon!, how fast it will fall again... and how soon consumed consumption will be felt. How soon the fuel is consumed.

How soon!, the wood that was used to heat up the winter has been consumed, and the cold makes a dent in fantasy, in dreams, in hope.

Oh! How soon!, how soon the boring moment arrives, and often accompanied by prejudice, anger or quarrelling.

How soon the challenge is used to recover value!

How soon one stops waiting! As soon as... one doesn’t wait. Despair goes on and creates great ways. It is like a new fuel that is displacing Faith. And it is enlarging like a fast top horse, at the head of the race!, but badly ends the final of the race.

How soon!... How soon one judges and how soon one fears.

How soon the fear becomes an alliance with despair, and how soon one gives up eagerness, commitments, projects.

The unstable is done soon. The "soon" becomes doubt. Doubt becomes indecision. Indecision becomes... restless stay.

The tremor always threatens.

Consciousness, insecure, grips! Oh, how soon!...

When spring begins to sigh, oh!, how soon one stops remembering that it will arrive accurately. 

Oh! Could it be... could it be that it was too soon, was it very soon... the arrival of our beings, as a sample of our origins…?

Could it be that we went ahead, and the room was not ready?

Or, everything was ready and... buffff!, it was too much work, arduous and intense? So, soon, despair and flight became common character.

Soon, without time, events ran... and there were hardly any memories.

So it was easy –and it's easy- to repeat the same mistake, since... it already took place, it already happened, but there was no awareness of it. And like a scratched record one says the same thing again. Alas!, the groove does not seem to be willing to allow the needle to take another route. A pincer groove is made. He does not know that the port is for the momentary mooring, and the meaning of the ship is to navigate, to become fertile in the sea, to fertilize in LOVING, and sailing to the sea of love… without time.

Because if the "soon" accompanies us, we will soon return to port; any cloud, any wind, any wave... or any colour, will grip us like prey, and soon it will be present as an entity.

 Oh! How soon –says the beloved- you have forgotten my gaze.

Oh!, how soon, I loved you and I love you so much, and you have lost my reference.

Oh, how soon!... that caress and that surprising kiss you have forgotten. 

Oh!, how soon you have chosen the easy way and the consumed.

Oh, how soon!, when you felt that you loved, you have broken the spell, for the sake of liberties..., which later turned out to be slaveries of fears.

Oh!, how soon, when an adventure had not yet begun, when almost all the options had been cut, oh!, how soon new pretensions arose.

And the breaths cooled down.

How soon!...

When it turns out that we are beings of breath!, of temperate mark. When it turns out that we are –ahhhhh!-... mists of haze that surround us in the gloom so the sun does not melt us.

Ay!... oh!, how soon the being gets tired, falls!... and asks to be lifted, when he knows he has options to get up! But –ay!- how soon he realizes that his pity –“his pity”- is profitable, and it is better to be lifted.  One will feel important for what he has done, and the other one will feel indolent for what he has achieved. Fraud!

If barely, if barely!... –as it resonates in the environment- if I have barely met you, if you have barely seen me, and already now –how soon!- you run away from me.

It seems or it would seem that impressions were useless!; that the surprisingly moments were not very intense.

Soon, soon!,  to continue  becomes... –ufff- a feat!

Soon, very soon, continuing with effervescence becomes impossible!

And in all this carousel of "soons", the being sails rudderless, while the prayer follows its soft whisper... without frightening, but warning; without claiming, but advising; without punishing, but... announcing the danger.

Oh! How soon!, in "todays" of "todays", one loses and loses again, while the desire of wining drives.

One wants to achieve, on one hand. One wants… So much we want and so little we love... that we want and want, and every achievement of wanting soon tires, soon bores!

Is it so hard…? Is it so difficult to accept the comfort and the sway of the Eternal, that we want to make it limited, manageable, easy manipulated, and be owners of it?

Is it so impossible to assume our smallness that soon comes the claim... –soon!- for not being the best, for not being the most outstanding, for not being the boss, for not being the worthy heir, for not having the baton of command? Oh!, how soon!

How soon one retires the Eternal! How soon He is sent to the residence of the forgotten! Oh! How soon the human encloses madness! Oh, how soon it subjected to a cure that has no escape!

It is not even given the option to flee away.

Oh! How soon, how soon the stars are gone. How soon, there are only bricks left.

Oh! How soon the intimate becomes so public, that anybody can give one’s opinions, anyone can take away, anyone can touch, and anyone can embrace!...

Some "nobodies"! This is how humanity is made.

Soon.

Is it perhaps... that the complaisant Creation did "anybody"? Did he not take great care in the design of each one, so that each being was –and is- impeccable!? How is it that, now, anyone makes use of one’s veto?... And vetoes any unforeseen action, vetoes any surprise, vetoes any suggestion, because it is so certain of its own, it is so owner of its body!...

Soon!...

How soon the pantheon of the gods is created!:

"Here lie...–the epitaph says-the gods lie here; those that created expectations, those that illuminated fantasies, those that inspired the stories.

Here they lie, under strong tombstones!, just in case they existed... Here lie under strong tombstones, just in case they exist, the mysteries and the incredible realities of Love!... ".

Well secure, they are buried, because it is easier to live from grain to grain, from experience to experience, from frustration to frustration, to make of oneself an important story, to say that I know about everything, to prove what has already been proven so many times, and so many times it went wrong!

What an eagerness to know evil! What an eagerness to know the tragedy! What eagerness to know deterioration.

 And if at least resources were available for "later"! But no. Soon the being discovers that he does not have them.

.- Oh, the great pantheon! The great pantheon of the events that whispered inventions, that created miracles!...

.- Miracles?

.- Yes! Miracles!...

 .- Oh yeah. There, there they lie. In the background, on the left, is the pantheon of miracles. We buried them a long time ago. Now, in its place we have chosen to start-up a smart building.

No. Miracles were not understood; because they were accompanied by so much Love, that it was... –uff!- unmanageable! Yes: unmanageable!

 Soon the silences arrived; but not those of waiting, of accurate faith. No! They were silences of absence, silences of forgetfulness; only hasty and prompt memories of what is needed in that moment.

The murmur of dawn seems to not be heard.

The miracle of every day seems to not be heard.

It seems... not to notice the surprises that flood us in every corner.

Oh!... They gave us hands of caresses; they gave us the feet of pilgrims; they gave us empty senses, for us to fill them up with... fantasies!

They gave us rhythm. They filled us up with curiosity!... for us to always feel attracted by the Love that created us.

They give us and they gave us so much, that it is overwhelming...  to perceive it already spent, it seems already sunk!... Sunken, we do not know where.

Oh! It is ready, yes, it is ready... –like the arms of Shiva- the hands of Providence are ready. The suns of Creation are prepared, to enlighten us. They are ready and willing the best and last miracles, these of... the end of season and new Creation!

Oh! More than ornaments! Ornaments, garnishes and garlands demand our attention so that this time, soon!, we stop that  prompt consumed consumption, and soonwe’ll rise... to the faith of the arrow... that does not fire;  that it is taken.

Soon –yes, soon- the "geared" commitment is required, precisely geared to minutes, seconds... –as if time existed!-. Oh, oh!... Even if it's because of nostalgia that can be felt when one senses that it is not there anymore... that the disposition was no longer there, that offering that Creation makes to life, every day.

Let's learn! Let's learn from that "soon"!, so that it will soon be the decisive leap towards the Infinite, towards the promise of Eternal Life.

Soon, soon!, we will prepare our best suits; let's put afloat our best ideas. Soon, soon, soon!... As if "the great train of illusion" was passing, the one that makes us fall in love every day, and... Let it not be that I miss it! Let it not be that it goes without me!...

Soon.

Soon!, soon!, attend to the pleas of the Creator Mystery. Listen to the options and opportunities it offers you! Attend... soon! Do not let yourself be carried away by the tide of your possession. Do not let yourself be carried away by the arrogance of your position! It can weigh so much!... that you are not able to get up, and even less to fly.

Come on!, come on!, innovation claims your presence. You are essential and necessary. 

The out-dated soothsayers said that nobody was essential and necessary! "The out-dated soothsayers": those who attended the burial of the gods. But you know that you are indispensable, you know that you are necessary. Then go to the train call announcing its presence, the train that... whistles as if it were leaving.

Soon come!, soon come to your place. You have your reservation. Do not miss it!

Do not miss it.

Soon it is caring on... soon it continues... the train!

"Soon".

***

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