The birth of a poem...
Then letting it go into thin air, like a weightless particle,arriving in far-away places, like a carefully thought-out idea, a blissful singular event, a flash of infinitesimal brightness, arriving at noon, completely negating shadows and at the same time completely absolving them.
The reign of calm arrived with these words and it is here to stay...
Friday, May 13, 2011
Oppure qualcosa indeterminabile.
Viene e se ne va.
Un attimo senza qualità.
Atomi in discesa libera.
Caduta assistita dalla gravitazione.
Eppure capisci e prendi appunti
per evidenziare la tua comprensione.
Virgola, sosta, riflessione.
Preghiera di andata e ritorno.
Poi arriva la valanga delle domande
Il peso dominante che distinque gli angeli
Che poi ognuno sceglie se vuole credere
O averne dubbi.
Altre domande. Altri appunti.
La mano scivola sulla pagina
Perché la mente si stanca davanti
Tante cose da ricordare.
La verità è solo un'illusione.
Se vuoi credere. Fatti tuoi.
Se invece vuoi dubitare
Avanti con le domande.
Mi raccomando, niente paura
Se qualche risposta risulta spiacevole.
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
Sipping coffee by moonlight is a magic ritual. Watching the pale glow
of the sleeping satellite reflected through the steamy blackness of
the hot coffee, itself a black hole of lost stars, of lost thoughts
during the day, guiding the Milky Way in its frothy giddiness towards
the promised dreamland.
I miss the Sun, but I am lulled by the certainty of its morning
And that’s when I remember the melody, that’s when I remember the
steps, the rhythm, and how lovely it is to dance by moonlight,
barefoot, carefree, enchanted and protected by the night. So I am dancing with the cup of coffee in my hands. Slowly caressing
it with my palm, as my feet touch the marble tiles of the terrace, and
the music helps me forget that it’s chilly, for it is warm in my heart
and the stars guide me on. I am made of light tonight and the galaxy
is my guardian. I am lonely no more. Humming the melody written by a lonely, anguished soul, centuries ago,
immortalized by his genius, I feel in touch with other times. Other
times tap me on the shoulder, politely, asking me if I’d like to dance
in other dimensions. I oblige. Coffee is my magic potion, and it opens
all doors, all gates, and everything is possible. My idea of freedom has just been realized, like a bubble of stillness,
a drop of perfect crystal clear reality just for me, mine to taste, to
cherish, to hold on to, if only for a moment. And a moment, if treated
properly, can treat you to eternity. I look up, there’s the sky, the great mystery, as dark as my soul, as
curious as my eyes, and as deep. The coffee is just a thin dark brown
reminder in the cup. I leave it on the table. I sit back, almost out
of breath from all that whirling and humming and dancing. There I am, my white dress blending with the terrace chair, and a
candle, and the moonlight, and the whole other multitude of stars and
celestial bodies, known and unknown, seen and unseen, yet to be
revealed in their full glory as their light travels across the miles. Sharing a cup of coffee in the moonlight with the stars and the night
is like an offering of peace, a balm for the soul, a recognition that
it is all right, that it will pass, that there’s a lonely heart but
equally unremarkable and aware of the plight of millions of other
lonely heartbeats trying to find a connection through the impulses
firing up across the universe....