Despair drowns me, as night smothers the light… Yet like angels’ eyes the stars promise relief in my final measure, reminding me of a summer night’s breeze spent in my lover’s arms.
But death is now my lover and despair’s only relief lies in its unjudging care.
The mirror struggled reflecting her beauty, foreseeing glory in the challenge of shimmering back hypnotic hues from the auras of her skin…
How do mirrors cope? …
The mirror shone… But did it overlook the hidden melancholy? Did it know the meaning of sorrow? She (with tearful hair, an image out of heaven) never opened up her heart!
The mirror shrugged.
Drowning, on the brink of letting go…
Sick of loving, sick of caring, sick of crying, she closes the door to her heart, falling…
I drift in my own world, falling into my own darkness, facing my own demons… An aching love clogs the arteries, suffocating my naive heart, and the charcoal face of solitude silently bites my hand. Depression takes over; my body turns numb and I wish time away, while I sleepwalk through reality dreaming in black and white with my eyes open. I’m an obscure artist: I glance at a vacant frame, then shoot words and write down pictures, pure metaphors for all kinds of dreams I may not know the name of; for life at its most intense; for Poetry.
And I’m alive again, at least for a short while…
Laughs are liquid outpour of light… Joyful chords of music running wild to mock the hands of time.
In the soft light of the morning, I wander aimlessly around town. I hear my own footsteps, lightly crushing the fallen leaves, but I feel no fear… I smell the storm coming from South, the clean energizing scent, and begin to hurry, just hurry!
Pain racks my chest after a while, but even so, I feel free and alive!
I look down and see my smile in a pool of water: It is the child I used to be, reflected by a living mirror! He never left, he only slept while I studied and worked, waiting for play to gently knock at the door.
Realizing that my dream will not come true makes my heart sink. But I guess this is the way life works: Constantly dreaming for that opportunity to appear, for that chance to feel good again…
And then… What if it happens? What if dreams come true? Will the dreaming still occur? Or will I, finally, accept happiness?
