Love is the most intricate labyrinth
Come look for me if you dare.
You must first kill your fears, the most wounding beasts.
Drown them in the oblivion sea rather sooner than later.
I have no crumbs to scatter for you, there’s only your inner light
And the strength of you passion to guide you.
You may get lost a hundred times, but your strength will grow
Each time you will get closer to my beating heart.
By the time the sun raises revealing truths you could not even imagine
Your spirit will grow wings and you will find me.
Any apple used to remind
Of the original sin,
Of her mythical alluring death perfumed beauty.
Wisdom blinded men used to see
The creeps of destruction
In the eyes of any innocent woman
Carnations. Red bloody curly petals all over the cold hard floor. Pain filling up her aching soul, an acute sense of bloody uselessness, her life breaking to hopeless pieces, dead flowers covering the ground, remembering her of a love that used to mean everything but that has become nothing. She felt no longer his presence, no longer his loving words, no longer his loving touch, she felt abandoned like a piece of unwanted trash, rejected like a broken mechanism that could no longer tick with sounds of life once known. All left was only the disfigured shadow of the man she loves.
Pain. A way out she prayed to see again. No idea how tomorrow would look like. Not the vaguest strength to carry on with this tragedy. Him, laying sleeping drunk on the floor, holding still in his fists the rest of the carnations brought to tell her what he didn’t know how to verbalize anymore, him all surrounded by the rest of the bleeding shreds scattered allover by her in an attack of passionate rage ignited by seeing him coming again in a state that never stopped to humiliate her in front of family, neighbors, strangers.
She, in a corner, crying, endlessly cursing her own life and wishing she would have never been born or no longer been alive. He, in another corner, sleeping, seeing in his dream her beautiful face, radiant with the love she used to give him, as he caressed gently her cheek, feeling so bloody guilty but so in love with her while kissing her forehead, this awesome woman that could no longer see how much he bloody loves her, how much he is depressed because of not knowing how to turn back the time and start it all over again. With her. From scratch.
When are you coming,
You weary soul and hungry breath?
I hide your beautiful memory framed
Sleeping deep in the fire of my heart.
My breath rests easy on your chest
As the night blooming in your loving eyes
Comes out of depths of your soul
That you have even forgotten.
What does your heart hide for me,
You dawn ethereal love?
No more tears, no cage of stone
To hide my crumbling being.
The delicate touch of your smile
As you kiss my moonlight shining lips
Awaits for the sun to melt us
In a passionate bud eager to explode.
100 words, memyselfandela, October 2013
Today is such a glorious day after the storm of the wind outside and the storms we may all have had at some point in our lives. Sitting here this lazy morning I have taken time to indulge in a fantastic cup of tea and, as it often happens to me when I have a moment of relaxation like this or when I smoke, thoughts flow through my mind with a different intensity than normal.
It has crossed my mind at some point that life is indeed extremely beautiful, but it is only us humans that tend to complicate it and make it difficult for ourselves as we concentrate on the negative in it. Instead of seeing what we have good in our existence we tend to look for those things that don’t work perfectly. Instead of cherishing what we have received we torture our minds with what we wish we would have had. Instead of acting on the positive we dwell on the negative.
Many of us here try to share their own view on life and in this process many of us sometimes write. But you know what crosses my mind often? Just as we TRY to write , we also TRY to live. We hesitate in writing just as we hesitate in life because we are so damn afraid of failure, of what others may say or think, that we may get paralyzed by this fear. And that is only because of not trusting ourselves completely. My friends, if we don’t trust ourselves, who else will do it? Do we really need someone from the outside to give us confirmations about who we are or what we can do?
It all starts with a step. It all starts with a word. Then comes another step, another breath, another word. It all flows just like life flows. The main thing is to try. If someone would ask me what one must do to become a writer I would say: “Simply live. Just abandon your fears on the side of the road and carry on. Just let the life create your own unique path and let the words gush out of your mind, just as they gush out of your heart. Because if there’s a demon that can reduce our life to numbness and nothing, that demon is called fear. Dismiss it and you will be free, free to be yourself. Just as free as the little happy mayflies who live short lives but nevertheless enjoy every breeze, every contact and every breath while dancing in the sun.”
Today, regardless of the negative in my life, I live and write. I may take wrong steps or good steps, I may write silly words, wise words, ordinary thoughts, but I refuse to listen to the little devil that whispers poisonous failure. Instead I promise myself that I will live and write, the best I can, the most authentic I can. Shorts stories. Long stories. Sad moments. Poetry. Beautiful moments. Moments alive.
I have you now
in a song
in the dark lip
under the cry
of the wild
Je t’ai maintenant
dans une chanson
dans la lèvre noire
sous le cri
de la sauvage