Our ears are listening.

Our ears are listening.
And they're looking at us.

It's about the deaf.
who can no longer see.

In their contempt,
They wander,
at the root of foolishness,
to the closed point of the ego.

The egocentric person is hungry
with small change,
the whole leaning
for the gilding,
the bitterness of memories
that we refuse to share.

It's enough to make you forget
the taste for speech,
the taste for little things
that do good.

That was it, though.,
all these things
who pamper us:
the smell,
hope,
affection
and tenderness.

Deaf people often omit
the look
and speech.

Often,
the turmoil transforms into words
without them hearing them,
and little by little,
the magnitude of a slight crash
flies away in a burst of light
that no one,
befitting a delicate being,
cannot perceive
like something
which surpasses madness.

Whatever the cost to us,
the words of their suffering,
who sometimes, unintentionally,
They plunge us into dreams.

Our ears repair us
when we are allowed
to hear.