En La Vida Todo Es Ir

In life, everything is going towards what time undoes. The man knows where he is born and not where he will die. The man who in the mountain - by the cross of some road - hears the voice of destiny, he moves away from his cabin. And continuing his feat, he heads towards the future with a hope to follow. But he must not turn back, as life is a strange path: in life, everything is going. I look at that palm tree that proudly displays its crown to the sun and I see what the splendor of the rose seems to be. I contemplate the beautiful girl laughing at whatever pleases her, and what the wind does to the dry leaf of the jocote tree: life is like a theft towards what time undoes. I had a brother who said - 'When I left Collores...' - That's how he sang about his loves to the Valley where he was born. Again and again he cursed the glory that lies in letters (and in which his name is reborn), since he came to understand how little knowledge is: the man knows where he is born. There is no more. Only one path that one would like to take, but the fate of walking mistreats and confuses the aim. No one can deny their destiny. It's just that being a man is to continue - and pursue an ideal - through life moving forward, knowing what was before and not where he will die.