Acariciar means "to caress" or "to stroke." It's a beautiful and tender verb that evokes a sense of gentle touch and affection.
In the song, the lyric "Y acariciar el viento" (And to caress the wind) uses this word in a poetic and metaphorical way. It suggests a desire to connect with something intangible and free, to feel and appreciate the subtle movements of life, rather than just passively observing them. This imagery makes the word particularly evocative and memorable.
"Maya" is Camila at their most restless, a woman trying to find her way out of herself before she can find her way to anyone else. She opens with "Busco puertas hacia mi" [I search for doors toward myself], and the doors aren't there yet, so she has to build the road as she walks it: "Inventar algún camino" [to invent some path]. Both verses follow the same shape, strip away the noise, find a new strength, and "llegar a ti" [reach you], then earn it by learning to "buscar el cielo a ti y despertar" [seek heaven in you and wake up].
The song's real turn happens once the searching gives way to letting go. "Acariciar el viento" [to caress the wind] is such a small, physical image for something this big, and it's paired with wanting to feel love instead of fear. By the closing line she's stopped trying to hold onto any of it: "ya se que nada es mió hoy, hoy, hoy, hoy" [I already know that nothing is mine today, today, today, today]. That stutter on "hoy" says more than a tidier line could, someone repeating a hard truth until it finally sticks.