there is a new harmony - heavenly, abstract, immaterial presence,
glimpse of a new order elevating dissonance,
translucent, transparent, weightless bodies,
gravity defying scaffold of light beams in the heart of waiting;
imagine music you can see, colours you can wrap around your trembling fingers,
a fragrant breeze healing all wounds, bringing ghosts to life.
do not oppose the change: be permeable to the point of no resistance,
let this soft wavering feeling flow through you; it is the shimmering river of hope;
you can now look back and see your past with new eyes:
the broken cup was full of light.
10:30 a.m.
it has rained whispers and unrest all morning.
i am almost ready: my luggage packed, my mind set.
i once had a dog i loved so much - she appeared to me in a dream last night:
i was driving on a deserted road, slowly, watching her in the rearview mirror
in disbelief and a kind of wonder that felt like an ice corset;
the dog ran after me but vanished in the corner of my eye before catching up.
i woke up crying and remembering how unworthy of her love i had been.
11:45 a.m.
i take photos from the train window - a blue ribbon blurring tree tops and
half-alive villages; blinking views like ghost-birds on the memory screen.
a few more hours to the destination.
2:15 p.m.
everything could have been different:
the beginnings were good except for some corners filled with blackness;
they didn’t matter at the time but in those obscure pockets of the days,
away from light and truth, toxic weeds sprouted;
in time, they grew into a forest where
love didn’t thrive, sacrifice didn’t meet reward.
everything was a lie, i found out later.
4:45 p.m.
the city breathes dust and a stench of madness;
fruitless trees line the slippery streets of the same old labyrinth;
sinkholes open at crossroads; neon lights tear at the fabric of sunset.
i have never felt more alone and sick.
7:30 p.m.
it’s dinner time; i’ll have the same broth of empty shells.
lies are the bread of the broken, the heartless, the cursed.
they are the moving seas that drown our fragile ships
and the light we carry within.
there is no shore to sail to, no island to take refuge
on planet lostness.
defeat is written in the great ledger;
from the very first time we borrow the promise of happiness;
we sign our sentence at the bottom of a blank page.
10:30 p.m.
as they lied to us
so we shall lie to them
what makes us enter the bleak corridor
even though we know there is little hope that a door would open
in the leaden darkness, to let us escape?
what if the corridor is you and you can see yourself, naked,
in all the mirrors hanging on the walls?
what would it take for you to break free?
perhaps too much, the price too high -
tidal waves of fear and guilt,
loneliness, wounds still bleeding -
they can erase your memories yet the traces of pain remain -
voiceless, blind, branded in your flesh.
so don’t look back, keep going,
cast a spell of truth and courage
and bring yourself to life again.
who knows what awaits you at the end of your journey:
a miracle. love. love.
