Precocious Aurora

They say the day begins at this time
In strict clock time
They say the day begins each day at a time a little different from the day before and the day after.

If the sun never blinks
And the moon never quits dancing
If love never grows because it is infinite by nature
And my life never ends because it is ebb and flow of any partial and ignoble reference of infinity
The day begins whenever I want it to.

For me at least
The day begins when I well comprehend
When I well accept that the day never ends
Or that it only begins and ends outside of this pitiful parcel of the everything I call my being.

Thus being so compressed the transience of my state
Being so obvious the inevitability of my abrupt doom unimaginably long before the supreme darkness of existence
May God wish for that at least!
It makes me happy to accept my remarkable and pathetic electrostatic presence as the convolution of an auto-constituting eternity.

And the evil such an illusion shall cause me
All the hopeless agony that one day will certainly hit back this mine Yes to this absurd self-entrapment
In case I don't die in a run over instant free of dazed and out of measure reflexion
May God wish for my death to come as an unscouncious fright!
The evil that the certainty of my infinite unwind shall cause
Will be an excess of strenght and fatigue.

Will be a stupid shiver up the kundalini
Delimiting the frontier between my raw and naked truth and the joy of my oh so mundane fantasy
Will be a supreme love
A will to proliferate a soberb culture
To few
The greed of transmitting an inheritance of ignorance complacent and madly satisfied of itself
Alienated satisfaction living an ocean of colors and flavours in each irrelevance.

Will be a bridge to an unforeseen future
A victory over my superfluous imagination
My illusion shall rescue me always from disillusion with yet another tide of insolent abundance of presumptions.

May the straight angles of the temple that is my body be the honor I grant my children
May God wish for children to be born from impious wombs gifted with this acute character flaw of mine
This supreme yes to an impossibility
This immense hugh in which the whole cosmos warms me with its incontinent indifference.

At least I'll always dance as leaf blown off the branch amidst furious windstorm
At least my kiss will always be the surrender of all my innefable silence's lust
At least my friendships will always be the battle field in which only the strongest within me can prevail
In which only the unbeatable in me will be left after the carnage of conquest.

And comes a revelation
That has nothing of mystic nor of instantaneous
A chance to pay attention to the flow of my breathe-in breathe-out
A chance to create a culture that builds new steps in the stairways by which I've so unexpectedly climbed to the summit of my highest hope.

And should such a climb ever have an end?
Is there still a hidden America
Beyond
Beyond the disagreement of the farthest flights?

Yes
Beyond the unstoppable depletion of my ship
Other birds shall fly even farther
And I need not be sure of anything else.

For if I paint the skies with my raving ode
If I imprint on the horizon with lilac smokes this message of solitude
If I dive into oblivion leaving stuck the flag of success over myself
If I abandon this pitiful infinitude sure that other birds shall perceive such distance and project themselves starved of crossings beyond my conquests
I need not be sure of anything else.