Reject the Lightning by Pablo Neruda — Read

Lightning, you committed me to the slow pace of my work: with the warning at equinox of your phosphoric threat

I gathered up my choices, renounced what wasn't mine and found at my feet and with my eyes the abundances of autumn.

The flash taught me to be calm, not to lose light in the sky, to search inside of myself for the galleries of Earth, to dig in the hard ground until finding in that hardness the same site, in its agony, the meteor was seeking.

I learned the velocity needed to leave it in space, and to study my slowness

I formed a frivolous school like a coterie of fishes whose daily glide and turn develops between threats.

This is the style of down below, of the manifesto under the sea.

And I do not believe that I'll ignore it because of some damned law: each with its flashing signal, with what it had in the world, and I turn toward my truth because I am lacking a lie.