I fought white ghosts to come and find you, Jesus,
I crossed my inner deserts and all fears,
to come and discover you, and I'm tired,
I walked too much,
I broke many shoes and lost a lot of water on the long journey.
And I didn't know where to go, I'm a homeless girl,
with a star on my forehead,
and they call me Comet,
and I don't know where to go anymore
and I follow your star because Christmas will come
but I will die in a dumpster or maybe at the sea,
maybe not you will see me among the sheep and the shepherds,
perhaps I will be elsewhere and I will finally have found the end of my pain.
Dear Jesus, here I am, I'm a girl destroyed by life,
and I'm not a beautiful presence in your crib and I won't be able
to stay there or will you welcome me anyway?
They say you were a friend of the poor
nd I have nothing to give you, and my heart is tired,
and I'm tired,
and the journey is over and still deserted inside me,
no plants, no flowers, I woke up this morning moody.
The sky is gray inside me and I have only one thought
and will that star shine for me too that night?
It will probably be the last thing I will see in this life.
And then I took my heart in my hand.
Throbbing and bleeding, like all hearts that have lived long enough to feel more than one emotion. Maybe a few too many. If only he had throbbed less.
Now it's here, in my hands. It no longer belongs to my body. It doesn't have to belong to me anymore. I look at it as a foreign object. That blood is not mine.
There is a crystal case. As fragile as it is insurmountable. That's where I put the pulsating organ. His heartbeat is no longer heard inside. Go dumb. And I am deaf.
How sweet this silence is.
I want to be deaf forever.
My heart has stopped belonging to me.
Stay there, you stray! Never again will the poignant litany of your beats be music to me.
Your melodies are omens of death. And I've died too many times.
And now you are dying, by my hand.
My revenge is complete and eternal endures.
Pain is eternal. SILENCE.
THE PRODIGY OF IDEAS 