The Conflict of Memory and Forgetfulness
Will the rivers remember,
the love of those drops
that turned into steam and left
the river's lap?
Or will they forget old absences every time
flowing into new streams?
Will the winds be able to preserve
those voices that passed by
carrying their own fragrance
the first letter, the first cry,
the first laugh?
Or will they all be scattered
into all directions, becoming nameless?
Will the earth hold on to those footprints
that travelers left with unfinished journeys?
Or will the first rain wash away
the stories of those old marks,
writing a new story?
Would the lamp ever remember
that flame, which in a moment
turned to ashes?
Or is it the habit of its soil
to forget the darkness every time,
with a new wick?
