Somewhere far far away
On the other side of the world…
Magic illuminates a moment
With the glow of enchanting word…
Light slips round the ageless trees
Softly embraces branches
Luring roots to the surface
With the bait of second chances
Shadows dance with the whispering breeze
Flickering pieces of thoughts
Voices of mystical dreams
Lovingly sent across
On a butterfly wings…
Listen carefully to profound silence
Fairies guard their secrets very well
Step insight for enchanting spell,
Find the presence in the total absence…
All the world is so colorful, it blinds my eyes. I wish to step back into the shadow and watch him passing by from behind the shelter of the eyelashes. The richness of the world expressed in the noise of the crowds, the cacophony of sounds, the elaborated strength of the light source, the tastes, the scents, the sensations overload the soul. I wish to remain under cover. I wish to be mute and deaf. I wish my world to be simple. I wish my world to be mute, black and white.
I am the frozen world of my own, ice-covered eyelids of the eyes that are too tired to look out for the spring. I’m the well walled castle guarded by subconscious. Step over the line and be shot on a spot. I am the glittering net of the snowflakes, captured flies of thoughts and dreams, patiently awaiting the arrival of their spider. I am a silent sigh and a turned away head. I am the words locked within the exposed ruins. Strange how it feels like I am naked, yet the same time sheltered well by a protective screen of silence. I can say the words I never thought. And I can hold on to the ones that hang on a fine thread off my tongue…ear marked with Who Cares
A pull or a push, gentle wave that takes you in and carries you out almost at the same instance. Climb on top and ride her if you dare. Or just relax resting in the folds of her soft white froth wrapped as if in a blanket. Nothing seems to get you moving, yet somehow you do get from one place to another. Such is a nature of ocean waves to breathe you slowly towards the shore. Which shore it will be, that’s all depends on your own sense of direction. Choose wisely, you might not get another chance. One can become weary of the sail; sea-sickness gets the best even of the brave sailors at times. One minute up, then next one down. As the tidal wave created by the uncontrollable forces of others nature takes you with her. And you wonder why the weather is never right for a smooth ride, why as soon as you set up the sails, the wind changed direction and you are rowing backwards, often getting stuck aground waiting. Waiting for another fair wind. Sitting on a shore in solitude, watching sunset. Catch a message in the bottle. Read the flabby running letters. Don’t they say that the season for adventures is over. Don’t they tell you that it is time to stay ashore. Maybe it is time to listen.
I dreamed a chocolate dream. The one where everything that you’re thinking out is made of chocolate. A chocolate treasure cave. Imagine that! Sweet heaven of indulgence. Walls, arches, doorways… made of marzipan bricks. You can poke it with your finger and lick off the flavour, You can walk the rooms furnished with meringues or sit by the praline lake watching ripples created by the tiny air bubbles. Bite a piece off a chocolate rock and hold it in your mouth until it melts. Let the taste spread inside you…from head to toes, a leisurely flow of exquisite delight, the one that makes you close your eyes in the divine pleasure and utter Mmmmmmm…Allow another to give you sweet offerings, trust with your closed eyes it won’t be a chilly pepper but the most luxurious Swiss Lindt. A chocolate shell with irresistibly smooth filling that lingers on the tip of your tongue like a drop of a catalyst substance to start a chemical reaction in your body. To introduce you to the mouth watering taste, all the same time not letting your taste buds to quench the thirst yet. Chocolate has to be enjoyed slowly, each piece not to be swallowed, but to be thawed in your mouth. Take a bite, touch it with your tongue, roll it slowly inside and feel how the size melts away, how the square brick becomes a smoothened ball before dissolving into you completely. Soon you’ll feel that wonderful sensation that comes with a slightly bitter taste of cacao beans. Intense. Persistent. Enhanced with the hints of vanilla. An ultimate blend of exquisite components that are mixed together so perfectly, you can never separate one from another. And when you’ll feel you have enough of the sweet tease of your senses, have a cup of coffee to override the excess of a sweetness or a glass of wine to wet your appetite for more tasting…
In Parallel Worlds the morning spreads his dew grieving over fallen leaves, a reflection of dream frozen in time hanged on a washing line like an old worn out clothe. Days are named after moments lived and recorded in a Book of Random. Night composes music in black and white keys and plays it to the daydreaming stars. In the hourglass time trickles through the neck of present and the guardian turns the world upside down when the last grain of sand empties the past, taking moments into the future. All is fleeting, all is peaceful, all is as it is. In Parallel Worlds.
When the day closes down shadows enter your soul. Dances that they
perform distort the here and now. Arms that hold in embrace, feet that
you have to follow, times that you have been borrowing, memories you
have to erase. Distance created by convergence, closeness breaking the
bonds, failed to inspire response. Total eclipse of your consciousness
He burst into the room through the window, riding on the crest of a sigh. Light breeze of one’s thought. He skimmed the tops of all the surfaces he found and ruffled the flaming feathers in the old fireplace. Played with the curtains until they start shivering from the excitement, stroke the right moment, slipped under the covers, and draw a shriek of pleasure from his refreshing touch to the bare skin. He brought in his pockets the whispers of the forest recorded on the dried leaves and scattered them across the room like confetti. Swirled a reminder or two into a head spinning waltz, creating an illusion of a vortex in the middle of a room. And when he finally got tired from the frenzy, drew the bed curtain aside and found his dream lying peacefully under the blanket of her sleep. A soft breath of wind, he traced her contours with his gentle fingers and whispered something in her ears. And as she smiled to his words in her sleep, he tip toed out of the room, carrying away his only treasure – a sigh of pleasure drawn from her lips…
Take a walk in the park. Boots and scarf. Pale sun rays like the strained strings of invisible violin pierce the misty air ready to be touched by the fiddler’s hand. Listen to the prelude notes carried by the leaves as they’re falling down slowly called for by the gravity of the Earth. One after another. The notes drop, each in solitude of a single piano key. C flat, then E flat and a couple of G’s. Scattered over the ground they wait to be picked up. To be taken. Carried in one’s hand. The flowers of Autumn days. A multicoloured symphony of nature. A music to one’s ears. Take a walk in the park. Inhale the freshness of crisp air slightly scented with that special perfume of moisture, a signature of Fall. Shuffle your feet in the piles of fallen leaves, find the biggest heap and dive into it with a laugh. Let the amber fingers stroke your face as you look into the green eyes of the Fall, spellbound by her smile. Play with a capful of the wind that slips in between the leaf sheets and rustles them carelessly until they cannot breathe overwhelmed by the passion of his touch. And when you sop in all the wonder of a moment, pick few colourful notes, carry them within your heart. Wait when the Autumn’s day is done and leave them on a bench where you once sat with the one you loved. As a reminder of the moment shared, written down for the record on a post it notes.