{"id":11176,"date":"2024-09-27T04:38:12","date_gmt":"2024-09-27T04:38:12","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/pedrocasiano.es\/?p=11176"},"modified":"2024-09-27T04:38:12","modified_gmt":"2024-09-27T04:38:12","slug":"algunas-veces-rima","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/pedrocasiano.es\/?p=11176","title":{"rendered":"Algunas Veces (Rima)"},"content":{"rendered":"\n<div class=\"wp-block-media-text is-stacked-on-mobile is-vertically-aligned-top\"><figure class=\"wp-block-media-text__media\"><img decoding=\"async\" width=\"640\" height=\"498\" data-src=\"https:\/\/pedrocasiano.es\/wp-content\/uploads\/2024\/08\/ai-generated-8773128peque.jpg\" alt=\"\" class=\"wp-image-9223 size-full lazyload\" src=\"data:image\/svg+xml;base64,PHN2ZyB3aWR0aD0iMSIgaGVpZ2h0PSIxIiB4bWxucz0iaHR0cDovL3d3dy53My5vcmcvMjAwMC9zdmciPjwvc3ZnPg==\" style=\"--smush-placeholder-width: 640px; --smush-placeholder-aspect-ratio: 640\/498;\" \/><\/figure><div class=\"wp-block-media-text__content\">\n<p>A veces el alma grita al aire,<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>quiere soltar el peso, lo rutinario.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>La vida, mutila con sus golpes diarios,<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>ahoga despacio, con mano de verdugo.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Es simple, es certero y doloroso,<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>como el filo del cuchillo sigiloso.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Es la certeza de lo perdido,<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>agrieta entre el ser y el sentido.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Quien creemos ser se desvanece,<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>quien realmente somos, aparece.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>En el espejo, esa figura ajena,<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>es nuestra, aunque nos duela.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u00bfEso somos? Lo que se refleja,<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u00bftiene alma o es una sombra vieja?<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>La duda cala, por dentro nos inquieta,<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>y la mentira a uno mismo, es la respuesta.<\/p>\n<\/div><\/div>\n\n\n\n<p><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>A veces el alma grita al aire, quiere soltar el peso, lo rutinario. La vida, mutila con sus golpes diarios, ahoga despacio, con mano de verdugo. Es simple, es certero y doloroso, como el filo del cuchillo sigiloso. Es la certeza de lo perdido, agrieta entre el ser y el sentido. Quien creemos ser se &hellip; <\/p>\n<p class=\"link-more\"><a href=\"https:\/\/pedrocasiano.es\/?p=11176\" class=\"more-link\">Leer m\u00e1s<span class=\"screen-reader-text\"> \u00abAlgunas Veces (Rima)\u00bb<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-11176","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-libros"],"featured_media_urls":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/pedrocasiano.es\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/11176","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/pedrocasiano.es\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/pedrocasiano.es\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pedrocasiano.es\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pedrocasiano.es\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=11176"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/pedrocasiano.es\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/11176\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":11177,"href":"https:\/\/pedrocasiano.es\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/11176\/revisions\/11177"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/pedrocasiano.es\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=11176"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pedrocasiano.es\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=11176"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pedrocasiano.es\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=11176"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}