Something moves Without travelling A pull without direction A tide with no shore A current With no river Yet unmistakable Once felt Skin remembers What the mind never learned Ancient maps Drawn without ink Horas largas Cuerpo antiguo Tiempo doblado Sobre sí mismo The moment stretches Like heat in the afternoon Thick Unavoidable Slow Nothing breaks Nothing rushes No edge appears To push against The current continues Because it always has Holding Without asking permission
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