Tuesday, 5th of June 2018
June, red roses bloomed to rest peacefully, one by one, under my eyes. And you, my love? Where have you been? Would you be fully merry to see them as I do in this very moment? I can’t hear your voice neither your answer, but, in secret, I will linger, hover and wait for you in this endless garden of roses.
I would have loved to lose words
to be a tree singing in the wind
I would have loved to be a cloud from a hundred thousand years ago
I would have loved to be a whale’s song
Now I go back to being nameless
with dirt over my eyes, my ears and my mouth
with stars leading me by the fingers.”
Thursday, 16th of March 2017
March, I cut my hair, put some mascara on and I spotted myself in the mirror looking different. After all these lives, will you still recognise me? Will you understand my silent words, will our eyes recognise each other from the very first moment?
Will we be “Alive to all things and forgetting all.” as Wordsworth said? Will this endless mutability fade with our lips reunite? Here, where the humanity core dwells, one day, we shall reach the right latitude of the castles in the air.
Words started to fall and shaping an affable nest in my hands. Pages immersed and become profound as a forest. A deer woke up and cautiously march until reach a niche of my bare skin to kindly caress it.
My Life is made of unexpected consonances that make me smile once in a while. Sometimes, words are stollen from me and, ever and again, restituted. Thank you Flaneur for this precious gift.
Dear Isa,
are these unreasonable thoughts of yours? and are mine these awaken nights in these stripped sheets?
How long do I write you nothing more than words? There is a cigarette that blends in the wind and there is a time that badly fades. Don’t suffer, Isa, don’t suffer, my love… There is a moon that lights more than the night and a thought. A perfect feeling for you.
Francisco.
…
Querida Isa:
são teus esses pensamentos despropositados e são minhas estas noites acordadas em tamanhos lençóis despidos.
Há quanto tempo não te escrevo mais do que palavras? Há um cigarro que se confunde com o vento e há um tempo mal-apagado. Quantos filtros serão precisos para que deixe de doer? não sofras, Isa, não sofras, meu amor, não sofras no trago amargo desse cinzeiro esfumado. Há uma mortalha que se acende sempre no sopro bem-enrolado daquilo que não compreendes. entre a noite e o dia, há muito que não te digo. Uma lua que acende, mais do que a noite e pensamento. Um sentimento perfeito. Amo-te muito. xx
Francisco.
P.s – These letters are real and the love, that one… was beyond the reality.
Love series by The Candour Cabin
Lets read a bit of poetry:
“SEA OF LIFE
This is not the end, my friend.
Just as the ocean sings songs to infinity
Our friendship too will flow onward
Until the day one of us
Turns and leaves
And the seasons will turn too
As our shells
As they return back to sand
And the tides that brought us
Forth
Will take us back
Again.
I will never leave you, my friend.
Every time you see a wave rushing to
Meet another,
Two friends unite.
Every time you see a wave crashing,
Two friends depart.
The journey will go on, my friend.
Our memories are recorded
In seashells
To show and tell
The lessons learned
In these heavens and hells
Part of this sea of life –
And when the tide is right,
We shall cross paths again
When the ocean sings our song.”
Poetry by Suzy Kassem
Very profound…
As you can see, I’ve collected a lot of sea shells, but I have far more than these… -_-
