The thinning out of conscious
pilgrims passing by me
in the adjacent jungle,
there are plentiful of pine trees
And thefts from satellites and rings
spinning endlessly at night,
the folk who live in
the waves call out to me
held out in promise
to the Fish of Time.
Farewell, river
that made life green
vacant now of flowers
and grapes and crafts
the fall of dropping water
wears away the stone.
Clouds will sail
and winds will blow
Opening wide the distances
Without any in betweens.
Ariel Riveros Pavez 
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