It is winter when I leave my home in
the crepuscular morning. Summer when
I return at twilight. Spring occurs
somewhere in the in-between though I am
not witness to it. Men, women, children,
the old folks, policemen, doctors, writers,
bus drivers, wage workers, mothers, veterans
of fathomless wars remain in permanent
state. And although they are forever
unchanged in our memories, even the
dead are not immune to metamorphosis.
We begin as atoms, molecules, corpuscles.
We acquire the stuff of life. Our clock
guided by a persistent shock of electricity.
When it ceases, the animate return
to the world of the inert. Wood, earth, stone,
steel seem unmoving when viewed from a
distance. But enter the darkened chambers
of the brain, heart, intestines, spleen, liver,
the thickening highways of our veins,
you will find that Molecules devolve, dissolve,
desiccate. In furnace flames, calcine bone appears.
more by SERGIO REMON ALVAREZHire An Editor