Sanctuary in the desert

Poem

Dry cave that from your land you drew out flowers
that separating their Indian lines expelled the ants
that unraveled the rocks with dry air
you will be my new sanctuary in the desert.

I will be your library companion:
we will discuss the white poetries of the sky,
write a sacred book to the sun,
recite the inscriptions of the moon.

One day, a crystal drop will fall,
spreading with effort over our land.
I will wear it as a pendant,
I will light the walls with white silhouettes.

You will grow upset by the insolence,
blowing ash from the center of the Earth,
burning the root left by the drop,
and its fragile stain too.

Wise cave, you don’t understand 
that in this age it is time
for souls wrapped in drops to arrive
and be reborn perpetually.

They will soak all planet Earth,
sculpting it to their will.
Those immense caves they will call oceans,
and the books will sink like pulp into the abyss.