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José Saramago

... and if anything I learned from other times
is not to wait more than the unexpected,
not to look but it is not come, unless
solution or answer, or coming ...

... best to be out, wake-up call, wake up at night,
push to the rise, lowering support ...

summit ... but never, ever top, never
this site you be to lose,
never be too because everything dies ...

... survive the eternal permanence, seeing no future,
being still ...

... best smile to the intrigue of the time.

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teachers have to spend quiet
footprint by committing our lives
with each letter, each word,
crimes eternal life and dreams too necessary.

teachers have to follow
pulling ideas from the tombs, after getting
step
not forget what we learn,
we do not lose the rhythm north
that we are each of us life and that's enough.

"No hurry, but never stop" - you said.
I will not hurry and never stop, maestro José.
not stop.

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A

as who was approached about a strange intuition and explained

look and fell and fell how do we talk?
if the content would not be welcome,
if my ears are unrelated and are now filled by another throat
immovable.

know what know,
the unreality of the possibilities,
content gaps, irrevocable
the delay, the folly
temporary
limiter ring,
commitment.

waited for an answer, a comment
asking forgiveness in advance with the faraway look and only found
daily encounters, hidden messages and

may never quiet ones.

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A journey, a skirt, a rumor, a cry
hidden corridor,
continuous exchange of a room,
a despair, a town full of words,
a destination.
An expression that was on the other, a tip,
a beard, a knife, a lounge, a comment,
one year and where such a beginning.
An age, a center, a step aside, a mystery
drawn on a door,
a letter, a verse, another word,
an entry in a blog full of tracks waiting
unexpectedly, a good dialogue.
A row of words is only a single row
words.

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wish I could break up the ideals,
together after the parts you would you
and live with the Frankenstein sought
being finally embraced
sleeper future while he waited
counting, and who has sunsets,
each molecule that leaves your mouth.