question 30

can anyone tell me what i should do,
why have i come here
thirty years ago,
when i was born?

what was i thinking, coming here with a plan forgotten as soon as my first breath?
what's the purpose? what do i have to do? how do i have to live?
what more do i have to learn, and talking about that, so what's the lesson for this life?

i guess i know the answer, deep inside, but i don't know how to get to it.
i think i'll just have to live...

awkward monologue

photo by me - the blue staircase in sibiu

you should have told me about today,

that i would meet you.

i should have been prepared...

now i have to mumble among words

only to tell you my name,

simple as it is,

rather than how you can make me feel

if anything should happen

between us.

i'm not so good at monologues,

and even worse at dialogging,

but that

your really had to expect.

words, sometimes,

are like drops of oil in boiling water,

they don't seem to fit me.

it would be best to just look me in the eyes

maybe something there can be found.

or you just might listen to my voice,

forget the words and their logic,

care only for the tone and fondness of my voice.

might work.

you might get a glimpse of me,

broken apart of what i'm saying.

care nothing for my words,

they only deceive, bounded inside letters,

stuck in the surprise of meeting you.

really should have told me about today,

about facing you.

i should have been prepared...

i've waited for this

only

all of my life.

the description of a Prince riding a caterpillar

in that shadowed forest, only his face shines. you can see him miles away, a lighted dot in the dark, like a firefly coming to greet you in a cold summer night. nevertheless, the sound of the footsteps of his ride meets you first.

he rides his faithful stallion - a blue white dotted caterpillar with 1000 legs, each shod with gold slippers with bells made of amber by some old deathless craftsman whom he encountered few years ago, on a butterflies powder seeking trip. if you cannot imagine the aspect of the caterpillar, try listening to a Buddhist monk on he 21st of June in a leap year - that could give you a clue. and if even that won't work, try dreaming on a Sunday morning, about eleven o'clock, in a green bedsheets wrapped around a single walnut tree handmade bed with the help of a red candle balancing above your head, on which you must definitely wear a night-bonnet my Grandma must make for you. but, you know, my Granny is kind of busy nowadays, so leave it be. if you cannot imagine the Prince ridding his caterpillar, you'll just have to take my word for it.

his eyes have the same color as the back of his caterpillar, only that is for the summer. in winter and spring, his eyes change from day to day, even him can't tell you the exact shade or glow of his own eyes. the best way is to guess by looking at them. if you truly want to do that, his eyes will take the tint of your desire. if you do it because somebody asked you or just for fun, his eyes will might as well turn black, because only black you will see in all of the looks ten days from that moment on. but, what would made you guess if you don't really want it? why would you like to upset the Prince? besides, if there's no curiosity within, why the asking?

nobody knows his eyes in winter. too cold.

he wears a red tunic. his Mom made it for him the day of his birth. and each year from that point on he adds another button at his sleeve. he has long arms, so long sleeves, therefor a multitude of buttons can be added during his first life, then continued along the other lives - no one knows how many they will be or even how long will all of that take. what's for sure is that he's got a knapsack full of buttons, one greater, colorful or wackier  than the another.

the Prince sing along with his caterpillar, actually along with the song of his caterpillar's footsteps. it's quite a cheerful melody. catchy. i could hum it for you but... i'm a bit embarrassed - i yelled last night at Yardley, my dog, he couldn't hear me because he's used to listen to loud music, and i had to call him down for dinner. after i kind of lost my voice yelling, he heard and we had our usual and some bluebottle tea which is good for bonding, so to speak. but you gotta believe me, it really is a catchy tune, Prince's and of his caterpillar's steps.

i won't bother you no more, and please accept my gratitude for taking the time hearing me. if you stumble into the Prince, please, i beg of you, say Hy from me. tell him the man with eight glasses said hello and i'm still waiting for him and his faithful stallion to drop of for tea. Yardley want to play chess with the caterpillar, they both enjoy it so much. TA-DA!

          

remember the music

when
too dark seems all
just listen to the music of the leaves below your window.
let the sound of the city go
put on mute the bothering noise along with all you want to leave behind,
pause the quotidian.
maybe
in that moment
a bird will gracefully do a solo
and some butterfly wings will accompany,
the percussion beetle will swing
and the cricket will end the phrase.

the silent city astonished
only
for the song meant to you.

when there's too much,
just listen to the music,
the old language
understood by all.

a note can set you free,
a song can give you a life
and
if you dare to sing...
you might just be happy!

the comeback

oh, lethal muse, do come back!
kind enough to rejoin my soul
for things that have been waiting
to get done.


sometimes harsh yet sometimes a lover,
my to-die-for muse,
light your candle again
for my eyes to see.


i hear neither wind nor music
without you
not able and not willing
without my spirit filled-up with thy shine. 


these are my last words
that i can barely draw out from within.
my last breath, 
my last thought 
and 
my last feeling
are meant for you, 
my lethal muse...