Nuevamente por estos espacios llenos de inspiración. Felicitaciones a la amiga @robotgirl2024 por su ejercicio ganador de la semana pasada.

Dejo por acá mi especie de «prosa poética», espero la disfruten. Para llegar a mi entrada, clic en el tirulo arriba. Bendiciones para todos.

𝙴𝚗 𝚞𝚗 𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚘́𝚗 𝚊𝚙𝚊𝚌𝚒𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚍𝚎 𝚜𝚞 𝚑𝚘𝚐𝚊𝚛, 𝚎𝚕 𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚒𝚊𝚗𝚘 𝚜𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚋𝚊 𝚌𝚊𝚍𝚊 𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚎, 𝚛𝚘𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚘 𝚍𝚎 𝚊́𝚕𝚋𝚞𝚖𝚎𝚜 𝚍𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚝𝚘𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚏𝚒́𝚊𝚜 𝚢 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚜 𝚊𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚜 𝚙𝚘𝚛 𝚎𝚕 𝚝𝚒𝚎𝚖𝚙𝚘. 𝙲𝚊𝚍𝚊 𝚒𝚖𝚊𝚐𝚎𝚗, 𝚌𝚊𝚍𝚊 𝚙𝚊𝚕𝚊𝚋𝚛𝚊, 𝚎𝚛𝚊 𝚞𝚗 𝚟𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚐𝚒𝚘 𝚍𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚜 𝚖𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚘𝚜 𝚐𝚕𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚘𝚜𝚘𝚜 𝚍𝚎 𝚜𝚞 𝚟𝚒𝚍𝚊, 𝚏𝚛𝚊𝚐𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚘𝚜 𝚍𝚎 𝚞𝚗 𝚙𝚊𝚜𝚊𝚍𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚎 𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚊𝚜, 𝚍𝚎 𝚊𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚜 𝚢 𝚍𝚎 𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚊𝚜.

𝙰𝚕 𝚖𝚒𝚛𝚊𝚛 𝚜𝚞𝚜 𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚜 𝚝𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚛𝚘𝚜𝚊𝚜, 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚊𝚋𝚊 𝚑𝚊𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚍𝚘 𝚘𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚜 𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚗 𝚏𝚞𝚎𝚛𝚣𝚊, 𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚜 𝚚𝚞𝚎 𝚊𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚊 𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚗 𝚞𝚗 𝚎𝚌𝚘 𝚕𝚎𝚓𝚊𝚗𝚘 𝚎𝚗 𝚜𝚞 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚎. 𝚂𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒́𝚊 𝚎𝚕 𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚊 𝚍𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚜 𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚜 𝚍𝚎 𝚜𝚞 𝚓𝚞𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚞𝚍, 𝚕𝚊 𝚋𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚊 𝚜𝚊𝚕𝚊𝚍𝚊 𝚍𝚎𝚕 𝚖𝚊𝚛 𝚚𝚞𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚕𝚒́𝚊 𝚟𝚒𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚊𝚛 𝚢 𝚕𝚊𝚜 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚌𝚊𝚓𝚊𝚍𝚊𝚜 𝚍𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚜 𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚐𝚘𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚘 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚘 𝚞𝚗𝚊 𝚖𝚎𝚕𝚘𝚍𝚒́𝚊 𝚘𝚕𝚟𝚒𝚍𝚊𝚍𝚊. 𝚂𝚒𝚗 𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚊𝚛𝚐𝚘, 𝚎𝚜𝚊𝚜 𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚊𝚜, 𝚝𝚊𝚗 𝚟𝚒́𝚟𝚒𝚍𝚊𝚜 𝚞𝚗𝚊 𝚟𝚎𝚣, 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚣𝚊𝚋𝚊𝚗 𝚊 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚟𝚊𝚗𝚎𝚌𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚎, 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚘 𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚊𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚍𝚊𝚜 𝚙𝚘𝚛 𝚎𝚕 𝚟𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚎𝚕 𝚘𝚕𝚟𝚒𝚍𝚘.

𝙲𝚊𝚍𝚊 𝚍𝚒́𝚊, 𝚖𝚊́𝚜 𝚏𝚛𝚊𝚐𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚘𝚜 𝚜𝚎 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚘𝚕𝚟𝚒́𝚊𝚗 𝚎𝚗 𝚕𝚊 𝚗𝚒𝚎𝚋𝚕𝚊 𝚍𝚎 𝚜𝚞 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚕. 𝙻𝚘𝚜 𝚛𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚜 𝚜𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚝𝚒́𝚊𝚗 𝚎𝚗 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚜, 𝚕𝚘𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚖𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚜 𝚎𝚗 𝚜𝚞𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚛𝚘𝚜 𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘𝚜. 𝙿𝚎𝚛𝚘 𝚊𝚞́𝚗, 𝚎𝚗 𝚜𝚞 𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚊𝚣𝚘́𝚗, 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚒́𝚊 𝚞𝚗𝚊 𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚜𝚙𝚊, 𝚞𝚗𝚊 𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚞𝚎 𝚕𝚞𝚣 𝚚𝚞𝚎 𝚜𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚐𝚊𝚋𝚊 𝚊 𝚎𝚡𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚞𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚎. 𝙴𝚜𝚊 𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚜𝚙𝚊, 𝚕𝚊 𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚒𝚊 𝚍𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚞𝚎𝚛𝚍𝚘𝚜, 𝚎𝚛𝚊 𝚎𝚕 𝚝𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚒𝚘 𝚍𝚎 𝚞𝚗𝚊 𝚟𝚒𝚍𝚊 𝚟𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚍𝚊 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚎, 𝚍𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚘𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚒𝚍𝚘𝚜 𝚢 𝚊𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚜 𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚎𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚘𝚜.

𝙰 𝚙𝚎𝚜𝚊𝚛 𝚍𝚎 𝚕𝚊 𝚎𝚗𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚖𝚎𝚍𝚊𝚍 𝚚𝚞𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚍𝚒𝚋𝚞𝚓𝚊𝚋𝚊 𝚜𝚞 𝚙𝚊𝚜𝚊𝚍𝚘, 𝚎𝚕 𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚒𝚊𝚗𝚘 𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚛𝚎𝚒́𝚊, 𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚚𝚞𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚋𝚒́𝚊 𝚚𝚞𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚋𝚒́𝚊 𝚊𝚖𝚊𝚍𝚘 𝚢 𝚑𝚊𝚋𝚒́𝚊 𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚘 𝚊𝚖𝚊𝚍𝚘. 𝙴𝚗 𝚜𝚞 𝚍𝚎𝚋𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚍𝚊𝚍, 𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚋𝚊 𝚏𝚞𝚎𝚛𝚣𝚊 𝚎𝚗 𝚕𝚊 𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚣𝚊 𝚎𝚏𝚒́𝚖𝚎𝚛𝚊 𝚍𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚞𝚎𝚛𝚍𝚘𝚜, 𝚎𝚗 𝚕𝚊 𝚌𝚎𝚛𝚝𝚎𝚣𝚊 𝚍𝚎 𝚚𝚞𝚎, 𝚊𝚞𝚗𝚚𝚞𝚎 𝚜𝚞 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚜 𝚘𝚕𝚟𝚒𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚊, 𝚜𝚞 𝚊𝚕𝚖𝚊 𝚕𝚘𝚜 𝚐𝚞𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚊𝚋𝚊 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚊 𝚜𝚒𝚎𝚖𝚙𝚛𝚎. 𝙴𝚗 𝚕𝚊 𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚎𝚝𝚞𝚍 𝚍𝚎 𝚜𝚞 𝚎𝚡𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚒𝚊, 𝚜𝚎 𝚊𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚛𝚊𝚋𝚊 𝚊 𝚕𝚊 𝚍𝚞𝚕𝚌𝚎 𝚖𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚘𝚕𝚒́𝚊 𝚍𝚎 𝚕𝚘 𝚟𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚍𝚘, 𝚜𝚊𝚋𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚘 𝚚𝚞𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚍𝚊 𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚊 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚍𝚒𝚍𝚊 𝚎𝚛𝚊 𝚞𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚘 𝚍𝚘𝚛𝚊𝚍𝚘 𝚎𝚗 𝚎𝚕 𝚟𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚊𝚙𝚒𝚣 𝚍𝚎 𝚜𝚞 𝚜𝚎𝚛.