Following the Pendulum

It is a metaphysical fact: the expansion of the Universe rests on 26 letters. Interwoven in words, they continuously stretch the borders of the Universe, like a sheet of Turkish pie.

Right here on Earth, there is an excess of words, quotes, stories. Libraries gather endless rows of new volumes. Materializations of restless waves of words left behind by poets and narrators. The shelves arch down under the force of gravity, unconcerned with the books’ value lined upon them. Countless voices, uttering the same questions. Tangential answers and unsolved mysteries repeated indefinitely.

The world does not need another poet; enough writers have already lived in the world. As I acknowledge this, I am absorbed into another day. As if out of nowhere, a word surfaces inside me, demanding to be looked at. I gaze at it and realize it did not come from nowhere. It is what life brought to the shore where I live. One day it brought death. The next day- wrinkles. Another day it carried fear. And then it cast away some gestures of love. Next followed a piece of bone, then a mask, a pill, a summer hat, a broken porcelain, a photo, a poem… but most of all, I was surprised when I found a pendulum, which captured me with its spell.

When I was a child, they taught me that time is measured by the clock’s ticking, and everything was simple, predictable, equal. This pendulum of mine is not ticking. Instead, it takes me and throws me back and forth, from one memory to another; then it plunges me far away into the future, and before I realize what happened, it grabs me again and hits my head against the past. I cannot stop the pendulum, and I have tried in vain to see how to make it tick. The only way left for me is to express into words what I see where it takes me.