THIRSTY FOSSILS

 One day there was a sea here.

And the sea was never more.

Eternally fixed,

the seconds

chiselled its fingerprints.

Fossilized pain

in every stone.

Instants without a time,

sea with nobody.

Thread of moon

cut in the tide.

Here there was a sea.

A stopped time

fossilizes souls,

freezes feelings,

remains, lasts.

Here there was a sea.

Rocks remember.

 (From "The trip of souls", a book about paintings by Francisco García Torcal)