My Blog
Italy
August 25, 2013
Interior emptiness, a huge receptacle of love striving to come out.
August 25, 2013
We all got a medallion,
keeping two sides,
the one facing the outside is bright,
the other one is darker than night.
We all got a knife,
to bury into our life
when things don't go right.
Medicines we have in the pockets,
our wounds they cauterize.
Grasping the flight of a bird
with your eyes,
likely to fade away
into the skyline,
but it won't be that long
till you learn how to fly.
People they rush away,
don't know what they do.
They will all go to sleep
when the sky turns dark blue.
The medallion does never shine at dusk.
It'll sparkle when sun kills the night.
Hopes are like seasons,
they constantly change.
Once they are triggered,
they bewilder our mind.
But there's no shame
in dreaming to fly.
The bird has just reached its home,
somewhere in the sky.
Working out problems
is our best concern,
every action is just
an occasion to learn
that nothing is lost
as long as we host
desire in our eyes,
and they'll never be blind
not even at night.
The medallion has learned
how to shine when day
runs out of light.
Sparks are willingness
to learn how to love,
feeding our resolve
to go through a better life.
People will address a smile
to your own domicile.
Waiting is not allowed
for those who shall try
to learn how their medallion
can shine in the dark,
sending their spark
to another heart's address
earth is holding in some recess.
We all got a medallion,
keeping two sides,
the one facing the outside is bright,
the other one is darker than night.
August 25, 2013
Tattered like an old yellowed note, crumpled like a scribbled piece of paper, sundered like an outcast, withered like an aging flower, worn out by disappointment, your heart stands still. Harnessed to a greedy planet, sheathed with weariness, softened by other fellow lovers, loved by whoever walks by, violated by whichever love-shaped spear, murdered by carelessness, replenished by winds of joy. Unwound when someone lies beside it. Its threads are woven as if in a ball of yarn, waiting for someone to unravel the inside
