we do it in the plural,
reducing the world
to fragmentation
and entropy,
of our cities
of lies and truths,
leaving in doubt
the life of the steppe
and the mountain
that protect us
from the horizon
open, drawn
by inseparable lines
of birds in flight
we question
the shadow
that shelters the ants
the world that rotates,
the water in the key.
if we talk about us
we speak in the plural,
almost always
expressing an idea
from the singular.