Imagina que estoy sentado en la puerta de una casa.
La puerta tiene un marco tan grande y es tan firme y segura que puede proteger a cualquiera del frío y del miedo...
Afuera... mucho árbol, mucha flor, mucha semilla; Adentro... mucha esperanza, hecha flor... hecha semilla.
La casa fue pensada para dos. Soñada para más que eso.
Esperar. Esperar habitar contigo la sombra del verano.
Esperar. Anhelar refugiar contigo la luz del deseo.
Esperar. Esperar tu mano, tu palabra, tu boca.
No quiero que siga lloviendo sobre nosotros. No quiero que siga lloviendo dentro nuestro.
La casa. La casa tiene tu perfume ya instalado en las sábanas. La casa tiene mi tersura ya impregnada en las almohadas...
No me dejes dormir solo en esta casa... la dibujamos en nuestros sueños para ambos.
Esperar. Esperar sin llorar. Esperar con calma.
Ya lo he llorado todo.
Mi abuela decía cuando lloraba que ya no le quedaban lágrimas de tanto llorar... por eso lloraba cada vez menos.
¿Me pasará lo mismo?
Espero.
Pero que sea debido a tu mano protectora que me salva de sufrir.
Habítame.
Esperar. Esperar con calma...
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ResponderBorrar"Who is this who darkens
counsel By words without
knowledge? Now prepare
yourself like a man; I will
question you, and you shall
answer Me.
"Where were you when I
laid the foundations of the
earth? Tell Me, if you
have understanding. Who
determined its measurements?
Surely you know! Or who
stretched the line upon it?
To what were its foundations
fastened? Or who laid its
cornerstone, When the
morning stars sang together,
And all the sons of God
shouted for joy? "Or who
shut in the sea with doors,
When it burst forth and
issued from the womb;
When I made the clouds
its garment, And thick
darkness its swaddling
band; When I fixed My
limit for it, And set bars
and doors; When I said,
'This far you may come,
but no farther, And here
your proud waves must stop!'
"Have you commanded the
morning since your days began,
And caused the dawn to know
its place, That it might take hold
of the ends of the earth, And
the wicked be shaken out of it?
It takes on form like clay under
a seal, And stands out like a
garment. From the wicked
their light is withheld, And
the upraised arm is broken.
"Have you entered the springs
of the sea? Or have you walked
in search of the depths? Have
the gates of death been
revealed to you? Or have
you seen the doors of the
shadow of death? Have
you comprehended the
breadth of the earth?
Tell Me, if you know all this.
"Where is the way to the
dwelling of light? And
darkness, where is its
place, That you may
take it to its territory,
That you may know
the paths to its home?
Do you know it,
because you were
born then, Or because
the number of your days
is great? "Have you
entered the treasury
of snow, Or have you
seen the treasury of hail,
Which I have reserved
for the time of trouble,
For the day of battle
and war? By what way
is light diffused, Or
the east wind scattered
over the earth?
"Who has divided
a channel for the
overflowing water,
Or a path for the
thunderbolt, To
cause it to rain
on a land where
there is no one,
A wilderness in
which there is no
man; To satisfy
the desolate waste,
And cause to spring
forth the growth of
tender grass?
Has the rain a
father? Or who
has begotten the
drops of dew?
From whose
womb comes
the ice? And the
frost of heaven,
who gives it birth?
The waters harden
like stone, And the
surface of the deep
is frozen. "Can you
bind the cluster of the
Pleiades, Or loose the
belt of Orion? Can you
bring out Mazzaroth in
its season? Or can you
guide the Great Bear
with its cubs? Do you
know the ordinances of
the heavens? Can you
set their dominion over
the earth? "Can you lift
up your voice to the clouds,
That an abundance of water
may cover you? Can you
send out lightnings, that they
may go, And say to you,
'Here we are!'? Who
has put wisdom in the mind?
Or who has given understanding
to the heart?
Who can number the clouds
by wisdom? Or who can pour
out the bottles of heaven,
When the dust hardens in
clumps, And the clods cling
together?
"Can you hunt the prey for
the lion, Or satisfy the appetite
of the young lions, When they
crouch in their dens, Or lurk
in their lairs to lie in wait?
Who provides food for
the raven, When its young
ones cry to God, And
wander about for lack
of food?
Best Wishes,
Dr. Howdy
P.S. You have a riveting web
log and undoubtedly must have
atypical & quiescent potential
for your intended readership.