By Heriberto Ruiz
Date: 19 July 1999

Untitled

If I were to write a book one day
It would only have one blank page.
On that page would rest one teardrop
And that would be the story of love.
A teardrop caused by the joy I still remember  
Or a teadrop that would wash away
The bleeding inside. 
Many people would open my book,
And upon seeing the blank page
One person would say, 'this man had no life,
He had nothing to tell the world.'
Another would see it differently, and say
'What a humble, deeply feeling man.
He told us in a moment
Without words,
All about love.'