It is an arid fight
It is an arid fight for inner peace,
with neither palpable beauty or defined poetry.
In this fight, one sometimes advances
in the night of anonymity,
in the mud of indifference or misunderstanding
under the storms and bombardment unleashed
by the conjugated forces of repressed pain
and denial, the flesh and the seed
of pure evil which lay deep beneath
the surface in each of us.
But it is through this course of action,
the commencement of this fight,
that the wicked seed is slaughtered,
the angels of the heavens are attracted,
and serenity is granted
to those who seek it most ardently.
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