When I am dead,
—my ashes scattered into the river that runs through where I was born, the river Santa Cruz, dry, unless the high clouds of the monsoon storms come, and the many or the few words spoken upon my death, dispersed over the surface of the Earth from their point of origin, until they meet one another in a whisper on the other side of the globe, there falling into exhaustion—
I will wait a bit with patience, before being reborn with the forgetfulness of the past and the spirit made once again exuberant to life.
In this future world, perhaps I will grow with a health equal to that of this present life. I will learn to speak who knows which language. Newly I will praise the difference between man and woman beyond the complement of their bodies, and perhaps, arrive at a mature age at which the young will surround me with wide eyes eager for knowledge, and question me thusly...
¿When? ¿When will be able to live fully in the day, to swim naked in the sea and go outdoors as they did in the ancient times, without having to be with dark glasses, and the body with cloth covering unto the tips of the fingers and the face unto the shoulders?
We are all weary of fearing the sun, and weep that the wrath of this light ultraviolet will yet endure until your grandchildren have perished.
¿If before there was a world of so many more resources and people, why could they not find the wisdom to avoid the Great Loss?
There were of course too many, but beyond that we believe their economic system maintained an inalterable momentum due to the will of the powerful or the apathy of the many, impelling a blindness toward the integrity of the entire system, as in their fetish for the private vehicle and the concept of individual properties thus enabled —until the ecosphere moved inexorably and beyond patience, to rain as before it had not, and to not rain as before it had, creating the deserts, the rising seas that flooded the cities, the hunger, and the most terrible of all, the breaking of organization; until the waves of death followed one after another, taking the unknown and the known, sweeping forever from the earth and sea but the lesser portion of the species.
¿Who were so sure of their future because they possessed money, those colored pieces of paper that were pursued above all else, blinding them from harmonious relation with the Earth; who could have seen but looked and did not; could have changed before it was too late, but did not in order to care not for the others?
¿Who left the planet exhausted and venomous, believing that their existence was completed within a single life like the period at the end of the sentence?