Freedom can be a little colder than we might expect

 I told the truth

With the best witnesses and all

They still didn't accept or care

Too much hatred

And mushrooms all around

But I told the truth

And my brain

And my stomach

Are getting better now

And the light is shining

From elsewhere

Truth Be Told (short verse)

 What happened in this city

For the last three years

Was never a competition.

Not for one second.

As I see it

 As I see, feeling trust in God is possible.

But it has nothing to do with trying to explain suffering away.

I wouldn't know what to say to a parent who lost a child.

I would probably be mute.

I don't understand tragedy.

I hate tragedy.

Still, I think it is also possible to feel an unexplainable trust.

Like two different departments of existence.

That maybe meet in some superior level, not here.

It's not about having all the answers.

It's mostly about feeling loved.

It doesn't end the sadness, sometimes not even the anger.

But allows you to keep being friend with a God

who can't fully explain himself.

My Emptied Sack (Short Poem)

 What could I possibly owe you

If not even the Constitution

was able to prevent

you to come and try

to take everything you could?

It's not my fault

if the things you actually needed

were not here

Opportunity of a Lifetime!

 I am indeed just a non-graduated music addicted latin-american guy, but I got vision too!

So, I'm following a friend's advice and investing my savings in Bitachon!

My Brain & I

My brain an I converse every night. I usually don't remember what we spoke, and I don't struggle to remember.

But I notice that he speaks mostly about my fears and desires. And I notice that I am a little more self-centered in those talks then when I am awake. I don't penalize myself for that. My brain paints the fears and desires in such vivid colors that running from fear and seeking comfort feels just like the right thing to do.

I don't blame him either. He needs to organize his information of what feels dangerous, what feels good, so during the day he can do his job.

My more aspirational soul, though, sometimes shows itself even during these talks. At least once, I created a good joke entirely immersed in my brain's world at night.

That's not to say that my soul and my brain can't find themselves in the same page. Like when he said "hey, remember when we were afraid of that thing, but we just flew, flew over everything?". And I said "yeah, man, that's more or less what hapenned, I guess." And he: "That was so great. Can we do that again?" And I : "Yeah, man, I hope. Let's try".