You Cannot Carry the Wind in Your Arms.
Slow down… Slow down
You run a fictitious race. For the winds you are dancing with can be deceiving. A mythical shelter that will perish once you are defenseless and have run out of breath. Even the most fervent gaze will not be capable to thoroughly detect her. Your hands will reach a great distance, yet she remains intangible. For once she belongs to the vast sky, and at last she is free. She dances over the landscapes and plains of forgotten highways and broken roads, a captivating contradiction of prayer and destruction. Discard your sense of touch and wallow in feeling, for you can only take a breath deprived from seizing.
Slow down… Slow down
For today she is the aftermath of a beautiful storm, from which she still bears the weight of the heavy drops of his reign, and the occasional roar of his thunder. Somewhere between the heavens and earth, a bewildered heart yielded to a thundercloud. For now, she speaks only to the faint stars of the night sky, brilliant and broken.
Slow down… Slow down
She moves willingly and uncontrollably, with dignity even in her disturbance. Exhausted in the unknown, gradually, shedding the debris of a hypnotizing whirlwind. Towards an unidentified destination, she maneuvers her remaining strength for as long as she is destined. And until the day has come, she prevails as her own sovereign, until she attains clarity and alas surrenders to gravity. But for now, a thundercloud still roars in the distance, she is in the midst of winter, and still the rainfall is dense. But someday she will fall on new land, and maybe just maybe catch a vibrant kite in her zephyr.
We will have all the time in the world.
No comments:
Post a Comment