Engaño

El agua cristalina, el reflejo, también la arena y las piedras en el fondo. Un pescado, nadando. No es hondo. Podrías pararte.

Salta. Házlo ya. El día envejece y con él tu vida. Anda, al agua.

Poco a poco. Los pies, las rodillas, el trasero, la cintura. La panza, el pecho, los hombros, tu cabeza. Gotas. Salpicas.

Una mentira. Es hondo. No nadas. Te ahogas.

Blades, paths, endings, choice

There are two blades, two paths, two endings, one choice.
The first blade's dull, the second could be rusted. Dullness is sure but bearable, rust is unsure but mortal. Dullness may be repaired, rust may in fact be gold.
The paths are similar, but perhaps one is crowded. I do not know which, for I cannot see a path where I have not traveled.
Endings are a tricky matter. Telling which ending belongs to which path is not that simple. The truth is, though there are two endings, both paths lead to the same. Paradise and Armageddon have lots in common, more than a mere man can tell.

Rust, crowded, Armageddon.
A choice of mine I did not make. Not quite sure.