HARMONY AND OTHER IMPOSSIBLE

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You are the peace that does not exist. That fantasy in the minds of dreamers. Those, asleep on their fine pillow, cottony and comfortable, like to stick to the utopias, shaping the mud on which to build their reality. Dangerous are when they join the moralists, and already deadly if they appear in the equation, politicians, benefactors and lawyers.

Your name evokes rest; A truce under the bombing. The brightness of the torch, a mortal desire to set fire to the town, is extinguished by the song of your crickets. It would be a pleasure to imagine you in every corner of the earth; No disputes, regrets or bad ways. Such a feat would not be possible, because the human race is low cost and its possibilities reach where they arrive.

Don't ask the elm pears.

You are a blurred image, of those who glimpse the most lucid sights. Like blond hair, or a glazed waterfall, you confuse those who rarely walked confused. Your desire is peace; rest from the torments of the mind; pause in the tumults of the spirit; delirium of the ropes and naturalness of the crazy.

Cowards invoke you endlessly. They like to disguise their lack of guts, covering themselves with the ermine of morals.

Some buy the merchandise, but know that they will discard it when they are strong in the contest. You are also a tender lover of omnipresent hypocrisy, who gives everyone a hand while dirtying the other.

You are looking for a hell-free space, only existing within you.

A bell in history imposed chasing you ... but their promoters did not know what they were playing. They faced reality, more powerful, dangerous and with an entire arsenal at their fingertips. In the end, the purposes of harmony remained on the bench, preparing one for the war that, you know, will explode or explode.

Harmony is like that little animal in the eyes of the child. That weak and therefore kind animal, which when neglected devours who is weaker than him. And that child, that curious infant, will soon discover the fun of fighting, the pleasure of imposing himself and the pleasure of bullying. No, there is no hope. The world is no place for you.

You will never be available on the menu, harmony.