Pedro Briceño

Sometimes every day

seems to me symmetric.

There is not one day to sigh,

to park my weary body,

to write a poem,

to kill a minute in silence,

to stare at little things.

I get up with the same

death spirit of yesterday.

Every thing is symmetric today.

My way is a highway

without traffic lights

that show my steps.

I don't know if I'm going or coming.

My journey is symmetric.

I would like to change my direction,

take the old routes,

not to exhaust myself any more,

to stop in every corner,

to break with this symmetry

that opaques me.

I would like to live every second

like it were my last breath.

Symmetry encloses me

in circles, squares and rectangles.

I would prefer to be a free vector,

without an established direction

and without a postulated angle,

composed of infinite

adjacent points

united with the same destination.