Con Truenos Hay Que Hablar

I find myself with my soul among the books of yesterday,
of the virtuous, studious of their being and I look at the words painting in the sky,
my uncertainty, my suffering. Speak with thunder.
To the dormant senses you must speak.
So spoke Zaratustra,
who with few words hit the mark on what my mind so eagerly seeks.
My mind seeks some muse my spirit wants to scream to express,
to confirm what brute force brings and takes. There are those who feel proud of their handful of justice and because of it they kill,
punish in such a way that the world gets lost in its injustice.
And how unpleasant the word justice sounds coming out of their mouths, if when they say: "I am just", it sounds the same as "I was avenged". Speak with thunder
To the dormant senses you must speak.