Of the end of the world

Midnight is marching closer and closer, my darling! The time is coming!
Among the silent fear of my brothers, while they kneel down in quiet prayers, I held my head up high and took a deep breath.

This is all rubbish! This is all foolishness!, a frightened, weak man shouts, standing up on a prententious bravery that is not his own, on an empty hope that his words could change the impending fate.

I stared at him in silence. There is not a comma I could add to contradict him. There is, however, not a single word I can cry to confirm his theory.

In oblivion, while looking out the landscape of infinite green fields, on a vision slightly spoiled by the nonstopping rain, I sit and wonder.

Should the world end tomorrow, I will know I have struggled.
The end of the rainbow always stood distant, but never too distant for me to give in.
In the very tip of it, the golden pot.
Over it, way up high, the land we have heard of once in a lullaby.
Should the world end tomorrow, I will be thrilled to finally have a chance to take a peek at it.

Should the world end tomorrow, I will be so very glad that I held the right hands, in the right time.
And I will be so deeply thankful I took this walk beside that person, for as long as it has lasted.
Had it been a day, a month or, even, our entire lives.
Should the world end tomorrow, I will only pity I no longer remember the last time I saw the flame in their eyes.

Should the world end tomorrow, I will know I have hyperventillated in panic and have met the darkest pits my mind ever allowed - or even forced - me to quest into.
The tears and the despair are marked in my skin forever.
Should the end world tomorrow, I will be glad it all finally came to an end.

Should the end world tomorrow, it is my deepest sorrow that I have never discovered some of the answers.
That I have never seen beyond or too far.
That I have never understood it completely.
That I have never gone deeper, to whatever direction.
Should the end world tomorrow, it is commas I leave, not final marks, for the journey will not be finished.

Still. None of this matters while the world is crumbling.
We are leaving.

Should the end world tomorrow, I will smile in gratefulness.
Should the end world tomorrow, I will be happy I have lived.

Republica

Remember, remember, the 15th of November.

The freezing wind is no longer blowing.

Flowers are blossoming.

The sun is rising.

The summer is marching closer.

Amidst the fabulousness, I am sitting on my very (temporary, perhaps) place, trying and make some sense out of this pure, utter madness.

So much information to play with and little sense of proper organization. And very sparse visits to this small bit of a personal space.

While I get my cards sorted, the various shades of the spring are colouring the streets.

The blooming roses, the scarlet violets, all shining on the most vivid and exploding moment of their short lifespan.

The lapacho flowers, however, are fallen to the ground, with a darkened, dull yellow tone.

I am sorry for having to let go of your hand, the falling leaves and petals said, filling for my silence, but unable to mirror my heartfelt numbness.

Take a breath in. Somebody in Kansas City still loves you.

And I keep striving.

So as to move forward to what I breathe and live as being my most enduring dream.

So as to run into proclaiming myself what I foremost ought to be.

The Kingdom. The Empire. The People's Republic.

_______

This has also been the 100^th post on this blog. Thank you for all these amazing some 5 years.

May more and more 5 years take place. May more 100 posts be written on and on.

May I have thy company for as long as it is sweet.

Have an amazing weekend, dear reader.

xx

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

X