Sunday, 30 September 2012

Middle station

And I am here, beneath my blanket.
Breathing slowly, in a peaceful rhythm of continuous joy and sadness.

I am static, staring at a null point in the colourful universe of the darkness.

For I am all mem'ries now.
The time that has past and the glories it had once brought.

I am, at least for a moment, no longer human.
Astounded by my own thoughts, I can no longer move or conceptualize.

The blazing youth has reached its final low.
A new age opens its door and calls me in.

The train has stopped.
Middle station. Exit on all doors, a cold voice announced on the speakers.

Prior to reaching such state and ending up in that dark, foggy and cold train station, I had been walking on desert roads. Reaching for a hand or for a welcoming embrace.
A twin tower had risen in front of me, catapulting me into a state of frenzy, of wow.

That was an open invitation to join. And I dove all the way in.
I finally made sense out of that four-lettered word.

This means that, in its most intimate affairs, my life had reached an unseen state of stabilization, thanks to those black eyes, staring back at me. Thanks to those feet, crawling up my legs beneath the dinner table.

Still it ain't changed.
Nevertheless, the memories in the back of my mind, they remain and they can open up the deepest pits of my undergrounds, pulling me in like a vacuum.

Times of glittery glory. Of colours. Of love.

It now makes me wonder and reflect, whether time has passed or not.
No doubt it has been too short since anything.
The never before experienced intensity may, however, be the clue that it was it. It was all the air I had to breathe before closing the marvel gates that mark the speedy, hazey and stupendous years.

Nothing was in vain, I see.

Time has come for me to understand where, exactly, I am, and, most importantly, how ready I am.

The reflection in the mirror will not give me any answers.
My own eyes insist on being mysterious, confusing and, ultimately, misleading.
My hands claim to be ready for any fight.
It is in the mind, I believe, where it will all come to be realized.

Stuck in the middle, tangled in contradictions, caught up between conflicting dreams.

I am all memories.
I am all visions of the future.

The train doors are still open while I face to the exit, unable to see beyond it.

Hold my hand and help me through it, I beg, watching as a tender smile is slowly printed into the lovely face looking back at me.

It is the journey I chose.
And the transition has to be made.

Have a nice week, dear reader