Mis Viejos Amigos

My old friends like the Moon bid shine
They shine like the stars even if it's daylight
But no one sees their shine as it's only imagined
When they dazzle minds with words day after day

They scream constantly
And they do it without making any noise
Masters of irony
Millions of words express
Without having to open their mouths a bit
Experts in telepathy

Their words are weapons, they are the fire that consumes
The ideas of many minds and then replant them
Because if they seek something new to question what already exists
It's necessary and convenient to incubate their ideas

They can't stop, even if they try to exclaim
Their words are eternal to some extent
They can't feel or love, but still they will never
Stop being loved even though they won't change

I'm here, without existing
I'm a paradox of my own living
But still, I'm here
Showing the world my being itself
My thoughts, what I was
And how I have influenced you

So loved, so hated, so feared and admired
Depending on the angle from which they were observed
They are the good and the bad, the accurate, the wrong
Killers of ideals and the parents of many others

They are friends even though we never shook hands
We never made eye contact or spoke to each other
Yet in their memory I have been several times
Many of their thoughts they have already taught me

I'm here looking at dreams they've had and I see
There's a connection between their minds and what I perceive today
That's why I consider them great friends
Even if they don't know who I am or what I'm saying now

They are like the wind and travel the whole world
They are time travelers and show us where they lived
But they are not aware of it, their bodies are gone
And now their minds live as the ink they wrote

I'm here, without existing
I'm a paradox of my own living
But still, I'm there
Showing the world my being itself
My thoughts, what I was
And how I have influenced you