Mistaken Canto

This is the song
to the mistakes;
mistaken ideas,
mistaken loves,
mistaken friends.
Routes that go
toward the enigma
of the beginning:
blind, crazy, voracious.
The dusk signs and seals
the signatures
of so many mistaken
hands. The scarce
light announces a vision
that should be certain,
passing over the things
buried alive
in the force
of coinciding once
with something genuine.

Soul, at this hour
and in the veracity
accompany with an appropriate
Psalm for the waiting.
Offer me life.

If you give me a tree,
one must accept it.
A tree never makes a mistake.
The river, for example, knows
its mission. It does it.
And if this is, my soul,
a mistaken canto?