Beauty is truth, truth beauty.(Keats)
The thoughts of philosophers seek truth. The sentiment of a poet seeks beauty.
Nevertheless, thought without poetry is dry; and poetry without thought is empty.
That’s why I started to write compositions that express a philosophical meditation, using the emotional and linguistic structure and resources of poetry. These compositions I began to call “philopoems.”
My philopoems are not intended to express discontent, but rather to set forth discoveries.
Many poems are written to imagine and give a place to what is not. I write philosophical poems to imagine and give a place to what truly is.
SOURCE OF LOVE
I thought love wasn’t mine;
that someone had to give it to me.
I tried it with the peacock tail,
but it was not enough.
I tried it with the king’s scepter,
Yet, I was dissatisfied.
I tried even with the saint´s halo,
and still, it wasn’t enough.
I decided to return the love I had
and it began to spring up
endlessly.
ESSENCE OF LOVE
There is no complete love;
There is no happy love
if love needs to be returned.
The purest love has no owner;
has no home to go back to.
It expands like gases
that cannot shrink again.
Love creates things,
nourishes life,
disappears
and reappears in you.
LOVE THAT IS GIVEN
Original love did not seek to be loved.
It came out of itself to create the world.
It was an endless white whole in giving,
Between black holes,
insatiable in receiving.
Love does not need to be loved,
but it is grateful, lovingly
that our inner black holes transform
into radiant new white holes.
GIVE IT ALL
Giving, wanting to give, giving it to everyone
That is the attitude of the noble knight.
To give what is possessed and what is conquered.
To give what is known and what is to be known.
To give a place in one’s own heart.
Knight-Errant of my dreams,
Do not regret having trusted
Or having longed for the impossible.
Or having opened your eyes.
Or having suffered.
Never regret
having loved!
BUTTERFLIES ARRIVED
One of them arrived:
It came to contemplate your light.
Then the second came:
It came to rest in your heart.
A third then came:
It went to spread your love for the roads.
Since then, butterflies have not stopped
To come and go.
