Mirror, mirror, on the wall
Sunday, December 9, 2012
I remember wistfully those little bells
Coming down in my ears of little baby;
I am in my youth now,but it happends,
Again,to have that certain feeling,happy..
The feeling of the little baby near her mother's chest,
Is the same green grass,where i am
staying,down,to have a rest,
An escape,in the happiness's core,to nurture,
My entire being..
I am still hearing...
Those little bells,
Coming down,and down,again,in my ears,
I would see myself one day weeping tears
For a loved one,
Woman,of astral plans..
Oh,i am still hearing the same short sharpen whistles,
Of the little birds,now,near me,
Hanging in the little pine tree,
One planted in my front-yard,at my birth..
My heart release a short sigh,
Wishing of a silent death,
Then,right after that,a birth..
A birth of a child...
Would i see the same mother who raised me?
Then,the same father,chasing me
Around the house,to beat me?
I will laugh,this time,telling them something predicted,
Long before i should born?
Would i see the same brother,
Who now,is far away of me,
And maybe saying louder
That now believes in God,
And when i speak of Him
To never contradict me?
But i will laugh,knowing he eventually follows his law,
And the water cant be stoped from its flow,
As it is its natural way..
Would i paint again alike before,
When i was twelve years age,
Alike when locking a door
And throwing the key,
My paths were limited,
And found myself alike a homeless dog?
But i will laugh,alike now,cos the passion for Art ain't gone,
Stands inside me,steady,alike the little pine-tree
And with my closed eyes,i try to see
If from above,on its branches,the birdies,come
When i call them...
They came naturally,without my call,
Alike there,naturally,on a wall,
A mirror,reflects everything...
I would not have a wish to born again,
As i am already alive;
I'm satisfied with my life and..is the same..
The same will be if ill be born again..
But since i am in my youth now,waiting to be old,
One day,i will look back in past to the pine-tree
Wishing to find again,these birdies
And i will listen their tunes,each day long,
Closing for a moment my eyes,brown with dark spots,
Maybe even silver,alike the eyes of a blind..
I will reflect,then,
The same who i am,
A small child,playing with its toys,
But this time,im a playing the sounds,
Wishing to express those little birds..
I will still hear these tunes,
Over and over,again..
Alike those small,tiny,little bells,
That looks the same,
Alike a cradle song of a fairy tale..
I am already part of it..and there i stay
Searching my mermaid,
Calling on name,
Ready to ask it: u've seen her?
I should ask the birdies..but,will i ever
get their language?
I rather look at them,there in the
pine-tree,remaining amazed,in silence..
What a lovelly chirping they have!
Would enchant always one's mind,alike a knight,brave,
Riding on his horse,from north,to south,from east,to west,
Searching for a quest...
I should ask the birdies
What are their names
And in one day,when i will stay there,under the tree,smiling,
To call them ..to come at me,
To enchant my senses
With their chirpings...
It will weep my tears of joy even in my
saddest moments,just hearing their echoes,
Over and over,again..
They will be my friends..those little birds..
I stay asking myself now..are they nightingales?
Where's their place,if not among the magic field with roses..?
Or,them are just petals,falling down?
In that case i will gather them all,
To make a blanket,to keep me warmth..
Would i be the same children,always,showing life?
I should ask the birdies...
But..right now,i rather stay in silence
With my closed eyes,
Listening their language..
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