The mind of the perfectionist

At some point of the story, the mind of the perfectionist decided it was about time to make something perfect. He locked himself up in a tiny room, with only one bare beam of light illuminating his project.
The perfectionist started to think, as thought, he thought, was the only possible way to attain perfection. Sitting in a blue chair, alone, the perfectionist started to think more and more.
At some point of the story, he started, without even noticing, to think in circles. Those circles, big at the beginning, started to get more and more and narrow.
At some point of the story, the perfectionist thought it was time to get his hands busy with what, he thought, was perfection.
He could never give life to his perfect invention, so he decided never to get out of his little room.
When somebody, at some point of the story, opened the perfectionist's door, he could only notice how the room was filled with light, but nothing more.

Big Bang

Sonic boom.
That's the way it should sound, if it ever reaches it's purpose, like a sonic boom.
And if I don't mention the way it should look, it is because it will shed only shadow.
There is this big spiral-shaped tunnel rooted in Switzerland's underground. Everybody knows it is there.
Why, then, should it be kept underground? Well, simply put, because not everybody knows its dangers.
Sure we have been told about the risk, but we are curious (within science) as cats. Sure we have seen what it does outside, but we are loyal (within science) as dogs. Sure we have been told about pros and cons, but we are hungry (within and without science) as killer whales.
When they finally reach it, their purpose, when they finally find God's particle, their purpose, when they finally know that all their assumptions were true, their purpose, we will be gone (or going).
But there is light at the end of the tunnel: If they don't find God, they will surely had found the best way to misspend billions of dollars.

Sus palabras

Aunque sean animales que viven en el presente, sé que anhelan el futuro
Aunque sean animales que viven en el presente, sé que añoran el pasado
Y cuando me vaya habrá sombra
Y olvidarán la luz que yo también vi
Porque aunque sean animales que viven en el presente
No recordarán cuando aquí estuve, sólo podrán recordar cuando me fui

Vocación

Tarde, pero a tiempo, se dio cuenta de que su vocación era parar goles, no meterlos.
Ellos tiraron. Él se lanzó.

Within

After an endless search—still ongoing—I heard a clear message.
All the answers you're looking for will come in the form of a question. Once you get all your questions straight, you may follow a righteous path.
The path of the righteous can only be guided by an inner strength which comes from the understanding that right and wrong are only ideals. The real moral pleasure of all living beings comes from a true capacity of compassion, forgiveness, and congruity, and from the understanding that the search of those virtues can be the meaning of life itself, for life is not a goal, but an ever-ending walk.