Corriente

Corriente

El que camina
se enturbia.
El agua corriente
no ve las estrellas.
El que camina
se olvida.
Y el que se para
sueña.

Lorca.

How do I stop? Remember, remember, remember. I love the sound, but the content troubles me. I want to run like the water and look as I run. Up, up, risk the fall to look around. And is to see the ground such a horrible thing when it contains such colorful stones and rocks? Variety to match, or even trump the sky. Run over the rocks, the branches, stretch your limbs out and beyond. Feel the current and relish its flow. Why can't I see the stars? Oh, yes, the light, the light. I miss the dark. A spattered sky that dissolves to dust dark. Console yourself with books, fresh air, the few stars still contain the universe. And the moon.

I see the moon
The moon sees me
The moon sees the ones I long to see
God bless the moon
And God bless me
And God bless the ones I long to see

Simple songs of a childhood prolonged. When will I stop jumping in excitement? Never, if I am lucky. So run, run over the rocks, laugh at the night sky and when you stumble but do not fall, laugh at the earth.