This is not the End, Unfortunately

"This is not the end. Really, it's just that many wish it were so, because the days are insupportable, same that the people and all this civilisation where the profit of few of them, it is more important than the life. Then, life is a privilege not a right. However, after weeks of panic the ambition and convenience remains over the fear and the fragility of the humankind. It is sad that the time for the rest of the Earth to be free was not sufficient. Not the human planet, the planet without humans. Meanwhile, thinks about the liberty and the death with a purpose, like the death of heroes and innocents is a bad joke, are not accepted. The divine purpose is a lie to write fantasies in the story books, which are not read enough and understood. The voice in off in the song with a bizarre electronic-guitar and more floods the afternoon. A song of the sixties, in the moment of the love is called to make the world resist. What world? Tomorrow, may be they will die but the same song danced in one thousand nine hundred and sixty eight accompanies this afternoon with te same passion and love. Yes, how many years?. Not sufficient, and the end could be tomorrow, not for this world but of our lives.., after her death. After my death. Suspire. Just now, when we are already old and weak. 

When the sadness belongs of the others are alien, the sadness is one more variable to play in the equation for the stability of a society or to be honest about a status. The question is who is part of the values of these variable. Then, the mathematical model fails and other discourse appears with is personal. Reality changes in a landscape where the "ideology" is the natural-life-human feeling. And the individual fear (not the mass panic) changes the idea of living for the survival. Not as an instinct, but yes as a thought, an intimate idea built with feelings and reasons. The survival as argument to understand that being alone is very hard and it is necessary the other. Alone. The city sleeps in a hot and sad night and a guitar weeps somewhere up the street. There are any possibility to observe the sky, just the clouds and the lights of a city without hope... in times where in the morning the worlds needs his optimisms, he want the seconds to be fragile and to crumble between memories and longings. -It is shit! - He says it while taking a hot drink from that chartreuse tea. The sound of the guitar ends... and just the silence. A sufficient space of nothing to recognise the breath, the life and how he things in she in the unfair way. She dropped it hard. Another gulp to pass the bitterness and not to say her name. In any case, she forbade him to mention it again.

Trust. How it is possible to understand the principles of the trust in the civilisation built over the foundations of the opportunism? Of course a justifiable opportunity to be over the others, over the benefit with the possibility of the advantage against any loyalty. So, the someday arrives at the day where the explanations based in the simple hoax is not acceptable. However, same if the possibility of the ends is close (or at least people thinks that it is it), the arrogance is sufficient to be worst. And of course, not now, but in the real "someday" when the end arrives (the real end) the beliefs and reasons will be confronted with the evident result of the deception.  How many times have I cried for her? And how many for the life style, the priorities and the miserableness of this society? The same times (may be less) than I laughed with her and for her and of course, a little more for the rest. Just a little because I'm part of these priorities sometimes... and for the rest, it is heavy of being part of something without really being it. Or desire it some nights in other hot times same if the shadow itself is unbearable. 

The times are bad with the mistrustfulness comes from the core of the society, in everyone of the elements of a species that it has not really wanted to learn from its evolution. The arrogance of the current supremacy prevented seeing the obvious: the weakness as an individual and the strength together. And of course the sentences of the leadership and the whispers of the people on the corner, in their shelters is against the idea of community. However, community is a forbidden word, same in the critical times where the parents and the friends disappear by the egoism. Loneliness is unbearable trapped in this society irresponsible and vigilant. All dystopias are visible now, but they have been happening for years. However, not everyone of the planet understands it because they did not read the real books nor did they understand the movies. May be for this reason some of us, we are alone. But I would tell me lies if I didn't tell me that every morning with you made me endure the rest of the day, until we made love at night. May be that's why you left me on a Friday morning. The beginning of the end of my times.

This is not the end, unfortunately. And it is not possible to be optimist for the rest of the times (almost now, when beliefs are directed towards the unreal and belongings, not the human beings). The machine created by the same humans to oppress themselves with the false idea that squeeze the others in blood and tears, follows the next four minutes for a hundred years more of lies and unjustifiable facts. One more time but now following in real time and second by second for the connected people of the civilisation until its dead.Then, as it usually happens, few seconds before, finally the reality is understand, but too late. A lot. And yes, as it usually happens, I understand too late. And you? The optimistic people says that it's never too late. And for this reason I still inside of me the last tear. May be a tear for the Earth and the possible trip of some of us for the dreams in the sky. The same imposible sky with stars of this night. At the moment when the end is desired but it will not come. However a simple call (with the respective breath) should be definitive. A call for the Earth, the love and the life. "