Joys and sorrows are unevenly shared. Poverty. The sea embraces the wealth’s coasts. The sun does not stand out.The common fate is the light. The visible is the real. Justice luck creates winners and losers. Walking in the world is an achievement. A fairy orphan. Inhospitable. You Find lines to follow. You Believe. A cliff. A salvation. You search for the reason why. A shadow erases the traces. Next.
Countdown. Holidays on the horizon. Bright festival unites. Escapers of joy. Malice deniers. Faithful followers of Santa Claus.
Bloodless games. By a gone era. Raining sweat. You are tired. You do not play. Life is a game. For others. Without the human limit. They rob. There is no score.
Progress. Steps against. Lack. Erases the dreams. The goals were hanged on yesterdays.
Collector. You carefully collect moments. Blessed. Without sacrifice faithful.
You fill the page with words
You keep your distance
In one resignation
A danger breeds countless fears. The many captivate. Modern wars divide them. Trapped. Time-worn ideologies rear victims. Kalpy idols acquire value to untrained eyes. Truth more precious than gold. It ruins lives.
Grains of sand. Seeded. The picture of the beauty of the world. Still. Pending. Our life is air. Driving us. The sea defines the boundary. You accept joy. You became a part of it. In the quiet of the summer you find a shadow to leave all the things that you carry. :Like a live baggage you breathe through the pages of the book of your life. You did’t want to have a holiday house to share your winter stories with your seasonal neighbors. Sometimes you feel the need: to hit your back virtually just for letting bravo sign to sit comfortably on you. Your destination seems to be a decision. It is encouraging to have a destination. Psychologists, for sure, have an explanation to this behavior.
Grains of sand. Seeded. The picture of the beauty of the world. Still. Pending. Our life is air. Driving us. The sea defines the boundary. You accept joy. You became a part of it. In the quiet of the summer you find a shadow to leave all the things that you carry. :Like a live baggage you breathe through the pages of the book of your life. You did’t want to have a holiday house to share your winter stories with your seasonal neighbors. Sometimes you feel the need: to hit your back virtually just for letting bravo sign to sit comfortably on you. Your destination seems to be a decision. It is encouraging to have a destination. Psychologists, for sure, have an explanation to this behavior.
They are looking for happiness forgetting the joy of existing. Be able to be there. Where your people write the book of life. Placing posts on the horizon. Hanging on the effort. Claiming victory. Diving in the circus of life. Without a safety net. The expectation is your oxygen which swells inside you. Changes the rate of your step. Erases all the bad things. Brightens your unknown tomorrow. Sweet intoxication. Love for life. Unshakable faith. A presence that as a missing it quickly becomes an absence.
At the edge of the horizon where the blue sea with the blue of the sky come together. This is where my eyes swim. Looking for a life away. In a distance from the ugliness of people. Sacred August. You spread your dreams by the sea. Not bored to pamper them the whole day through.
My own dreams are shining through the darkness of the days gone by. Many of these days are dodging me, though. A struggle to meet my destiny. A victory that will redeem me from the darkness. Time passes by between the breath and the great inspiration. This one. You will experience in a high level. When the clean horizon indemnify all your costs.
Like a swallow I fly in warm climates. A necessary waste of the indolence.. A pagan woman. Seducing people with an accomplice planet. The sun. It perfectly bathes in light which paralyzes your defenses. Lucky mortal born in a country full of beaches.
You’re left alone floating above the sea. It’s so easy to be alone among the many. You. The page you have not finished. You write and you erase with the pencil of your mind. At the thought of tomorrow you have pictures of yesterday. As an invisible rain that soak your plans. The defeats are haunting when the victories don’t come. A new threat appears in the form of an alternative project. The resignation. Radiant. With accompaniment. With many ornaments to make it beautiful. It has goodies to fool the tired soul. To give it ways to bes lost. To erase its trace. Somewhere in there you feel like a castaway drenched in the sea of despair. You struggle to find the courage. To swim. To confront the land. The sign. The lighthouse of your life. The mother of all battles for human beings. The secret of immortality. A Race. A word with blood and sweat. The history of the world. The path to the more abandonments. With lives that shined through the centuries.
You’re in the arms of God. This is the privilege of life. Every sun rise is a a libation to your waking. One day. A blank page. You. Among the sticks fighting to keep your way. Do not waste your perfume. Do not fear the scratches as deep as they are going to be. Get used to the darkness. Let the eyes of your soul to choose your next step. Because you have faith. Like fire. Dipped in eternal oil. You keep pn going. Glow. A burning wish which remains alive.
You close your eyes. You still dream. You don’t give away any of your page. You keep your distance from the world. Think. This is the fight. A whole troupe around you is struggling so that you miss it.
It’s a luck to earn a few days by the sea. To find warmth as wounded man in a war. It’s wisdom to find Ariadne’s thread in the maze of your thoughts. Every morning I stare at the tips of the bay. Two pieces of land rams the sea. They demanded the respect of the sea for it. Embracing the waves within themselves. A pebble strewn in the sand and myself strewn in the sand, too. In the aftermath of personal disaster. How a man measures time?
Counting doesn’t look alike. Some stop… in disaster. Others find the power to wind up the clock. To continue. I’m somewhere in between. I did not stop. I was not able to file my defeat. I am doommed to feel it. Whenever. Time is the enemy. It accompanies the review and it is merciless. A very close relative of resignation. A rose bud. It offers color, perfume, beauty. I remember my beginning. A time when any unit was counting my dreams. The lack of ignorance risk was something that like weightlessness dressed time with bliss. I saved the my valuable things to have them with me. Long is the journey. Solitary. In the favor of time breaths become pictures in the midday shade under the trees. I’m awake. Stirring the fragrance. A decision.
The resignation is not defeated.
You dive into the memory. One season. It shines. One summer all life.
You learn to hope. Then. No logic. Discovering of soul. The blessed man.
