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(Lyrics: Jaime Torres)

The day couldn’t find a semblance of respite

Nor the mantle of light could bring the colors back

The sight that met the eye, what the gaze revealed

A lingering vastness, a land with no sound

And amid this barren land, a tree

Tall and proud, yet incomplete

Its branches scratching aimlessly

A shell hardened by time

Roots that no longer know their ground

Oblivious to the life that lies around

When was then, the time it lost its grip?

The moment when the eyes were turned within

So deep, they never found their way out?

The moment when the Other was cast out,

To become a still life

Yet left to die

Now its domain is fading,

It’s sinking in the grey

No wind blows

No breeze to feel

The Silence.

The Void.

Memories that wither

as they dwindle with the leaves

Senses that are crippled

as if trapped beneath the stones

Memories that wither

from an age left in the white

Senses that are crippled

as the soil enfolds all life

The will to forget

The will to dissolve

The will to lift the weight of the world

The quicksand below

The graceless fall

The embrace of the abyss

The call of the void

Upon the timeless hill it waits

Engulfed in muteness and decay

“Lightly, lightly

a wind starts to blow.

Lightly still, the wind goes away.

And I don’t know what I think

and have no wish to know”*

*Adapted from Fernando Pessoa’s The Keeper of Sheep