Teoria del Caos

Una mariposita revolotea
alrededor de una bombilla.
La niña se inclina sobre la cama
y susurra al oído de su abuela
“Si estoy hecha de polvo de galaxias,
habito en el universo
y el universo me habita,
entonces ningún hambre,
ningún sufrimiento, ningún gozo,
me son ajenos”.
La abuela abre la boca
y penetran los ojos de la niña
en una cueva inmensa y milenaria
la cual exhala un aire oscuro y frio
“Ves esa mariposita?”
dice la abuela a la niña
“…en este momento se derrumba

una montaña en China…
y en otros sitios
donde la gente no tiene dinero
para comprar bombillas,
las maripositas aletean igual,
por la nostalgia de la luz.
Y cuando ellas baten sus alas,
en cualquier lugar del mundo
una madre encuentra a su hijo,
algún amante llora
y cae algún tirano”

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