Nuestras Nadas Poco Difieren

By chance, you were born,
and by chance, you have died.
It’s a mere accident I’ve witnessed only
the end of such a random life.

Nature gave you wings,
but it also gave you a vice:
that of desiring what burns the most
while it most shines.
Icarus perished only in art,
but you ceased to exist in front of my eyes.

I don’t think your passing here in my kitchen,
right next to the flaming stove,
loses its pathos because your brain is smaller than my own,
and your nervous system less complex than my cat’s or dog’s.
Ephemeral too was Novalis’s blue rose.

Now I understand, the distances saved and all,
what will cross the mind of God
when I die as well and leave this tiring orb.

Felipe Rodolfo Hendriksen recently graduated from Pontificia Universidad Católica Argentina with a Professor Diploma in Humanities. He is twenty-five and has been writing (with some ups and downs) since he was a child. He is now a Ph.D. in Literature student at the University of Texas at Dallas looking forward to focusing on popular culture in general and comic books in particular. In his writings, he humbly follows in the steps of Borges, Bolaño, and Murakami. Instagram: @delotroladodelocaso. Twitter: @feliglobo96.