THE ESSENCES JAR

Silver shining edging clouds, I come to surrender to the power of connecting. I saw an insurmountable fortress; the leap deserved an olimpic medal, where in a thousand dreams of consecutive lives and deaths would have this been thinkable? This a is a ballet perpetrated for the sake of shaking souls, the brilliance of unreachable celestial bodies competing with the one of the key on the open lock. It is looking back at you barefaced, like saying: “It was about time you fool” And I smile, closing my eyes feeling the warmth coming back through windows that I am opening, windows to another worlds. I am sending invitations to sign against the cutting of a rose, to preserve the embracing nature of the tight bud, and the letting go nature of a living miracle. There will be a time, the right one, no other, in which the scattered petals will pay off.  For thorns I got twigs, bandages blindfolding the stem of this reincarnation. I am drawing a spiral counter direction, so fascinated on the infinite, in the minuscule that I got distracted from the song of the snake charmer. There are stories within stories, the quill is no repentant, the quill is just a mean. There was a time where terms were mistaken, when gleaming was better considered than illuminating.  There is an unfolding thread, a line of liquid particles completing a flowing cascade, a static piece of lace floating in the air to purposely filter our breaths. For this is what I came for, for this is why I got dropped out of the rocking cradle.  That is why I got captivated by the dawning at this stage after being captive for what it seemed to be a life sentence. Look at my hands, on my right palm rests a lid, on the left palm a jar liberating essences of forest morning breeze… and it feels like a growing treasure, the evanescent nature of my inclinations, no time is wasted, no contact is fortuitous. I am the only responsible for whatever the consequences, although what is important has no relevance from a future point of view. Now, what sort of impulse, madness on state of re-composition fuels the daily move? A joyous celebration of singularity needs no explanation, even if nobody sees, I found the purpose and it is poking its tongue out to recognition. You are not more or less, you are. Does the representation loose the meaning behind the curtain? The spectacle began in what appeared to be an empty theater, giving not too much credit to critic. The movement taught the steps in solitude to become an exploding heart in every circle, releasing myself from my body in every waving expression of the arms.  Just like those lips that let a little bit of life escape to be blown over me, I am escaping to cover a broader area than the one delimiting the “I” that you have known. B_Nour