Victoria

A new year arose.
Fireworks lit up the sky in the distant horizon, too far to be fully spotted from my humble county.
I was miles away from the frenzy, the chandons, the seven waves, the smiles of the metropolis. It was just the very centre core of my family, having our most intimate moment as we celebrated with all best intentions.

From afar, I was holding those long, smooth hands.

I had wishes and hopes.

For once, life seemed curiously breezy, calm and, yet, uncannily exciting.
Still, rushed. Very rushed.

It was not long until I crossed the two-nine-o road on its entire and took its one-o-one sister up to north, to the southern Love-Me Bay.
A thousand miles long road trip, with just me, music, asphalt and the hand-drawn landscape that unveiled in every corner.
The very last moments of me and the silver vessel together as one.

I looked at the immensity before me in contemplation and gratitude.
Being there, smelling the ocean and the nature, was just a blessing itself.
Every single step that built up to that moment just added up to the experience.

Time, however, was short-handed, for I had to march back southways that same day.
A new dawn, a new flight.

Below the clowds, it reveiled, all at once, itself to us.

It was Victoria land we just landed in.

With the greetings of a dear friend, I started to explore the exhuberant and fresh land of victory.
The long avenues, the arborized streets, the blue-ish ocean on its surrounds, the sun-kissed skinned people.
A rushed big city blent with such a relaxing feeling that was, indeed, an invitation to unwind.

Then, in silence, I prayed. For the steps I took. For the steps I was yet to take.

May the winner prevail. May Victoria smile at us.
And I took another chance. Yet to be understood.

And as the days went through, under the blessings of the Holy Spirit and the intense, shimmering sunlight, my long strolls through Victoria streets would give me bliss and inspire me mystery and wonder.
What could lay beyond the third bridge?
What is to be found far ahead the island?
What is sunk down the ocean?

A life of questiong. Or questioning of life.

The ocean washed away some of my fears and took parts of me over the high seas.
Still, it could not have, by itself, settled the sense of accomplishment I was yet to run after.

Under promises of return to resume the love affair, I left Victoria.
On the tight terminal, the long delay dennounced that, perhaps, the island wished me inside.

It was, however, time for the next step, for time was tight.

To be continued.

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