Places

The mountain is pitiless,

The snow will freeze again.

On its slope the nucleotides of our

Existence are scattered like gravel,

Everything thrown into this mass grave.

Inside this cosmic egg of ylem

Our lives are created from repulsion.

But love contests this separation.

After all, despite our differences we

Worship the same moon, and there are only

So many elements that compose our existence.

In the café two strangers play the piano,

And outside the rain is melting the snow.