Aguila de Plumas Negras

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Another old poem, just for the fun of it.

Águila de Plumas Negras.

Terror que rebosa razón
Se pierde sin causar dolor
Solo sensaciones de ausencia
Que cubren cualquier intención
De salir de lo profundo
De ver la luz del mundo
Encontrar su nueva presa
Y condenarla a su mundo inmundo.

Libre se encuentra el verdugo
Volando sobre la meseta
Buscando su nido oscuro
Águila de plumas negras
Observa a la distancia
Ha visto la fuente eterna
De la que brota la sustancia
Que hace falta en su caverna.

Se acerca muy lentamente
Para no ser descubierta
Su estado es inconsciente
De que alguien allí le espera
Sigilosamente se integra
La esencia de aquella fuente
Mientras a ella se acerca
El ente vivo y sapiente.

Diez metros separan la meta
De aquel que busca la vida
De aquel que arriva a la sima
Sin percibir la sorpresa
Le resta medio camino
Pero cae de un golpe, aturdido
Ya sabe que es un intruso
En ese lugar tan divino.

Lucha por alejarse
Intenta ahora dar vuelta
Consigue de pronto escaparse
De que o quien lo apresa
Voltea por un momento
Para conocer su atacante
Sin creerlo ni comprenderlo
Desprende un grito angustiante

Recibe un golpe en el pecho
Tan fuerte como su odio
Con una mano en su lecho
Observa la imagen de un todo
De pronto pierde el sentido
Observa ya su camino
Comprende al fin su destino
El águila ha sucumbido.

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