Pachamama

The Earth, our mother Earth, where once we came from, and where we will go back. And so, one life, and another, in this Earth or that Earth, what difference does it make? If this one goes away, it will come back, renewed. Without us. With others. But you will be there again, as it always was, and so it will be.

Pachamama, years have past, but you don't age, you change. You're pretty. Oceans, desserts, mountains, clouds, your blue, your white and your green. Your land. Your life. I like to stare at you from the outside, high, very high, and see the clouds pass by. See a corner of the World waking up, while another switches off. The sun light, the night, in the darkness the lights. I don't get wearied looking at you. The tides take me to you.