Making a wish
according to the superstitions of every town I’m in…
This time, I made the most beautiful wish.
I didn’t ask for my bank account
to have enough money
to feed my city
for millions of years,
nor did I ask,
incredible as it may seem,
for that person who robbed me of my sleep
to contact me again;
I didn’t even ask for a single word from her.
And with the certainty of one who knows
they will die when it’s time,
I didn’t ask for a long life either,
full of health and joy.
This time I asked for something
much simpler and impossible all at once,
knowing the gods would lend me their attention,
I asked, without pretensions of fixing the past,
without the arrogance of wanting to turn the future
into a toy for my whims,
I only asked that life always have meaning,
even in the saddest moments
and especially in the euphoria of joy.
That it always have meaning.
With that, I content myself.