Prognosis

and then the spirit of the world had eyes
he tuned the future and in him what was light
it was just the glow of the scales of the hours
and in everything that we have for matter today
he felt the weary taste of time
expelling what it knows:
the masses of ancient stagnant waters
and in them the reflection of the clouds sick of us
we don't need to lock the doors anymore
to avoid the speedometer sight of this pain
tomorrow the engines of the spoiled earth
will noisily swallow our tears
to lubricate each of the components
of the new nightmares that we will have

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