The middle of all things
Between the end of the beginning
And the beginning of the end
Everything has a inertial mass
Like a bridge that we pass through
On which we go distracted or not
Aztecs could feel the middle of life
The moment when everything we lived
Is exactly equal of moments
That we didn't lived yet
On a precise moment the most common Aztec
Felt a sudden and unexplained will to get a train
But it hasn't being invented yet
And he became sad
This is the sadness
The will to have something that hasn't been invented yet
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