Expel what's strange,
A self defense action
To purify.

But purity is dangerous as poison,
It lacks adaptability,
Requires precision,
None of which
Can sustain long.

Everything we shoot
Is no longer in control,
No longer ours.
We aim, but reality changes,
Bullets are lost,
Mistargeted.

We shoot to lose responsibility.
We shoot to free ourselves.
Anyway,
Every trigger is just waiting a choice.

To be precise
Is to lack broadness.
The world is limited
For I am limited.
The world extends me
To include myself.

I'm defined by my outside,
The negative position of being,
I am my joy of living,
The decision to remain,
A choice,
A place,
Wordless definition,
A completion of the space.

I am. The sum of all possibilities
Could only lead to this.
I am a result,
A process,
But I am a creature creating.
Because all of this
I can only be insufficient:
Otherwise I would lack existence.

I hear the sounds
Telling me change are coming.
I see a different breeze,
It slowly drifts me
Into an unexplored place,
Calm, fluid, balanced.

I never saw it earlier,
Never been there
Although the coordinates
Were always known:
Any map can lead you there,
Any compass points there,
Every single being can feel it.

Every change is announced,
Even sudden ones.
Our time is sometimes insufficient,
But warnings always exist.

To be present and steady
Is to absorb detours,
To apprehend discontinuities,
To live in ambiguity
Is to live at all.

To every action
There is an equal and opposite reaction.
A price is a reaction,
Value is the action.
There is always a price
Charged in money, credits and debts,
But also in heat,
In relationships,
In exhaustion,
In freedom.

We constantly negotiate
With time:
Our primarily finite asset.
Everything is at a perspective,
Charged in time.

I must learn
To reevaluate all the prices.

The more I do
The more I am afraid of stopping
Even though there is nothing to lose.
It is just a commitment
That no one will charge.
It is my self reference.

But I know my limitations.
I know I can change my mind.
Commitments reflect a time
That will lead to a different time,
Different characters,
Different backgrounds,
Different plots,
A different maestro to a different orchestra.

I fear lacking continuity,
To bend my own rules.
The more I know myself
The more I keep continuing.
I fear the inflection.

I rise into the world of being,
Born, bleeding, crying, seeing.
By any chance
Birth made me happen,
Curiously curious,
Helplessly questioning, wandering,
Somewhat philosopher,
Somewhat physicist,
Somewhat lost trying to create new labels.

I was born
To be in the world,
To deal with questions without answers,
To find my own sense.

I am here for no reason, though.
I am here to be here.
To see it through,
To live it through.

To question is just
A way of being here.

The only thing keeping us together
Is this friction,
That avoids slipping,
Avoids movement,
Despite of all generated heat,
All lost work,
It is, ultimately, micro physics
Of contact, of bonding,
It is a welding necessary for coherence.

Friction allows steadiness and displacement.
The difference is the direction and way of the force.