A nameless thing calls you
A nameless thing calls you.
You listen to it in the uncertainty.
It’s like a strange and fictitious voice
crossing an abolished space.
Do you hear it?
It could very well be a bird
that incessantly pecks in your ears.
You can’t move.
It paralyzes you.
An infinite desolation courses through you.
It isolates you from the world.
It makes you cry.
It’s something like a blurry voice
and it surges from the deepest realms.
It suspends you in the air.
It surrounds you.
It’s barely a murmur that envelops you
and makes you delirious in the vast silence.
{ Francisco Pérez Perdomo, El límite infinito, Caracas: Monte Ávila Editores, 1997 }
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