Yesterday Was Short
by
Francisco Sanchez
Smashwords Edition
ISBN: 978-1-4661-9979-8
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Dedication
To the good English teachers who truly tried to teach me some good English writing and thus succeeded. Much thanks!
Chapter one
Yesterday Was Short
Yesterday was short, and although we
were young, Loyda,
we wished that we grew a bit older; we played
together and loved one another
while time came by, without hurting
much;
the stars were bright, Loyda, and the blue sky turned dark
at night while the soft wind
played and perfumed with the smell of
fresh roses your long and brown hair.
Today is
long, and although we are not young any longer, Loyda, we wish that
we could
grow a bit younger; we don’t play together or love one
another while time comes by,
hurting too much; the stars are not
bright, Loyda, and the blue sky turns cloudy at night
while the
rough wind hurts and dirties with the bad smell of dead roses your
short and
gray hair.
The Ultimate
particle
can only be found in i! for i am!
it is i that makes existence
possible!
for what kind of existence would there be without i to
see the shadow of light?
for what kind of existence would there be
without i to hear the quietness that is noise?
and what kind of
existence would there be without i to motion such a
non-existing
stillness?
Trying to explain time
there’s an i in time and that
someone i must know;
trying to explain time as if it were a rhyme,
that’s me; trying as if, as if it could be
stopped; but then,
again, the joke’s on me; for time is what i am;
I’m a
trace of sand in an hour glass, falling without knowing why the
motion; and
although I shall never hit the ground, I shall
occasionally smack into it through short
thought, thus making more
pieces for the puzzle.
To Explain Existence
The inside is the emptiness of the
outside; the outside is the full emptiness of the inside;
and when
we try to explain things, we become pieces; and it is these pieces
that make us
whole;
Existence,
all which is and all which is not, cannot explain itself; that’s
the reason we
were created: to explain existence and at the same
time explain ourselves; but we must
also create so that our
creations can explain us.
Thoughts Are Reflected
Thoughts are reflected, either by our
eyes, either by our bodies, either by the way we live,
but
thoughts are reflected;
To forget their self-hatred, my
parents threw me in a river of tears; many times I (almost)
drowned;
many times I (also) hated them; but my hate for them was hate for
myself; and
as I hated them, I threw my self in the river...
And that pain they gave me, I wish it not, but it shall be, they shall feel;
All things
are reflected, new things come from old things, the mirror reflects
what we
want to see, and God is reflected (even) more when (He’s)
denied...
This is Why…
Meredith, what reason do I have to do
the thing that I do for you, ask me not; just be glad
for both of
us that I do.
Whatever and how ever I shall do it,
what ever shall I give you or even say, are only
things already
belonging to you.
Meredith, your presence makes my
heart beat, and that beat puts nerves upon my soul;
and I can’t
help it, but make both of us smile.
It is a
funny thing this thing called creature human, always looking to be
free or even
captive; and in my case, my case is to see
myself--Meredith--smile when I make you
smile...
The Same That I Do
The same that I do to myself, others--therefore--will do the same to myself.
The Noise of the New York Train
Alone, we're taking the New York train home, at least I know I am;
you
look at me, I look at you, but we turn our eyes away, wishing for
something to say;
but the noise of the train reminds us of our
pain;
the noise of the train keeps us from hearing our smiles;
we
built bridges to keep the world closer; that's why we're lonelier;
for the bridges are
taking our places; they separate us more;
I'm
afraid to ask your name, modern advances; for you too would fear to
take chances that
with every smile, there's one less mile.
The Greatest Of Beauties
The
greatest of beauties is that of creations; and of all creations, the
greatest is that of
thought; for how wonderful it is to take empty
pages and fill them thick with thoughts;
yes, thought is the greatest of trills; thought is life itself;
Chances are that what I thought here
was already thought; but I re-think it to make it
clearer or just
to remember it;
Chances
are that no one did think the same thought as I do, perhaps that’s
why I think it; a
man cannot feel alive by pain alone.
The Greatest of Creations
Began with the greatest of thoughts. But what started that thought?
An emptiness that wanted to be emptied.
And a thought that thought without thinking;
A motion that moved without moving. It was something in nothing that began thought;
If we think it through, we might find
the answer; we might think it so through, that we
might go beyond
it and find that it’s not there;
But better
still, the answer may be not in the thinking; it might be on the
road, just as one
turns to keep on straight; or on that stone that
say nothing, and yet, say so much...
The Creator of my Thoughts
Thought is what keeps man going;
But something besides the mind, which is only a reflector, must create thought;
And you, Meredith, you are the creator of my thoughts;
And because we are friends, we shall live forever:
You see, you are in my heart, the preserver of things.
The Anger
With my right fisted hand I kept a dairy;
I hit and hit, and hit some more, the other hand.
The death that walks upon my soul has given me the anger,
the anger that punches hearts and that closes my windows to laughter;
the anger with it habits of drinking is here;
If I shall find you, it isn’t I who dreams;