With you, my blues

 I will admire your face when you sleep beside me…

 I will be looking at you when you walk alongside…

 I will experience the magic of existence at night looking through a moon window  and being with you…

 I will be listening to this voice whose intonation will cherish me…

 I will be worried when you are leaving…

 I will suffer with you…

 I will be ailing with you and not be scared of anything….

 I will feel neither pain nor misery when you are near and I…

 I will cuddle up to you when it is incomprehensibly sad….

 I will give you everything I have…

 I will hand you my sensitive heart and you can break it…

 I will get intoxicated with your breath and whisper…

 I will bathe during these magical wonderful minutes and hours of passing life…

 Because I love you as you are …

 And you are my sensible Blues….

 

 

The ghost of Baltimore

A pink sunset as a peculiar fabulous lotus exploded and became stock-still like a huge fog underneath the eternal mysterious Moon.

So much rest and peace below this light…

So much good wisdom and understanding…

So much soul brightening and love…

Here, on the shore of life, before the long flight into eternity…

Where close dear people and familiar places with past warm memories remain, with such a crystal-clear frosty air…

 So close and now far but where we still…

 It was nice and cozy there at that time, with those people, those thoughts, those steps and that love.….

It is yours for ever and it is always with you, behind your back, your heart, your soul and your sorrow…

For those whom we used to love.

For those whom we remember.

For those who will see us off to this everlasting voyage.

Who will wave his hand before the coming meeting….

 

 

Signs of destiny

You are either the flying destiny itself or the forgotten roadside of life…

You are either like a tree from roots to top or a rootless house plant…

Your eyes are either diamonds with kind intensity or grey stones from the road…

Your body is either like an ocean breeze or a miry harbor…

Your arms are either like sensual wings or sticky mud…

Your thoughts are either like breakers or shapeless clay…

Your steps are either like the spring wind’s rustle or field slush in autumn…

Your acts are either like monsoons in a desert or biting wicked knocking over wind …

Your love is like a clean brook or a dirty neglected well…

Your world is a wonderful May palace made of pink petals or useless dust…

Your face is either an emerald crown or a withered tree that lost its leaves for ever…

 

Drops floating above earth

We are able to examine the face of thoughtlessly marching blind crowd through them…

The world is made out of colors that we do not notice when living in such crowd…

The veil of floating sounds descending from the immense sky…

A fountain of rarely beautiful red and blue drops of the falling rain…

They pass through us…

When we die we see them and they look like these bright drops but they never fall down. They float without touching earth…

Earth cannot absorb them since it is just a temporary refuge for the living people who are mortal…

These are the Creator’s drops and they are eternal messengers from other worlds…

When we die we shall turn into them and also float without touching the dusty earth and without wetting its perishable ashes.

We shall just cry out weakly being born on earth and dying on it,

Our cry cloaked in diverse nerves of the doomed like a temporary whisper will remain unnoticed in the sheer mist of these floating purity drops in the rational milky space surrounding us.

There is no room for the living in it since the living cannot always love all those around them and close by…

People are so changeable and cruel when love towards everything and everybody nearby goes away, if love only ever calls on them during this short instant between the moans of birth and those of death…

And somewhere these drops will turn into a miraculous fountain of the eternity lotus flower which only the Creator is destined to see in its full beauty…

 

 

The ghost of Baltimore

A pink sunset as a peculiar fabulous lotus exploded and became stock-still like a huge fog underneath the eternal mysterious Moon.

So much rest and peace below this light…

So much good wisdom and understanding…

So much soul brightening and love…

Here, on the shore of life, before the long flight into eternity…

Where close dear people and familiar places with past warm memories remain, with such a crystal-clear frosty air…

 So close and now far but where we still…

 It was nice and cozy there at that time, with those people, those thoughts, those steps and that love.….

It is yours for ever and it is always with you, behind your back, your heart, your soul and your sorrow…

For those whom we used to love.

For those whom we remember.

For those who will see us off to this everlasting voyage.

Who will wave his hand before the coming meeting….

 

 

A two-sided wall

Part 1. The Power of Human Society.

Laws will establish rules for all the people …

They will begin to live according to these rules…

The chosen ones will buy and modify these laws to suit them…

In order for others to live according to their new rules…

The man built palaces and cathedrals…

The man erected sky-scrapers and towers…

The man equipped clinics, pubs and casinos…

People started electing presidents…

So that some had no rules to follow…

 

Part 2. Power of a Human Guise.

The guise of kindness will conceal evil…

The guise of mind will cover up stupidity…

The guise of tolerance will enter a cathedral…

The guise of pity will mask the poison of gall…

The guise of sympathy will hide selfishness…

The guise of godliness will hide the desire of flesh…

The guise of solidarity will promise a hope…

The guise of a millionaire will become propagation…

The guise of a politician will cover itself with care…

The guise of the deceased will hide him from abuse….

 

 

 

The cart of time

This cart is floating in time space rocking from one year to another and from one century to another.

You will be sitting inside it and watching the wonderful lifetime you have lived.

Images of everything you have done mixed with what you have not had time for but have thought it over and with what will no longer ever come true will be standing on the sides of the road you have walked over.

The images touch with your cart and you can touch them if you are strong enough…

They look through you and remind you of the familiar faces which have already walked past…

As if they are made out of grey clouds it seems from afar that it is mist which comes to life and vanishes one instant later and only the leaden rainy clouds remain behind…

The clouds send rain and your back can feel the withdrawing humid breath of life…

Ant a beautiful glorious rainbow will see you off with a cloud of a lovely face and a smile which used to throw light upon your life.

The already withdrawing rainbow of love will shed light on the delightful fountain of life and your patience, pain and sufferings, joy and delight…

Afterwards it is only the white magic light…and this last tiny baby figure charmingly waving at you like the last angel that looks like you….

The already ash-grey clouds will flood you with the last memory of your birth…

To the sounds of the baby’s song the beautiful drops of this shower will carry your ultimate consciousness away somewhere…

And the fascinating fluffy snow, like flittering butterflies will slowly and solemnly fall on the grown cold ground.

And the dream will come for the sake of your delight for which you have gone in your cart through this span of time given to you…

 You will see her again…

 Snowflakes will be melting on her warm hands with a happy feeling of an inevitable meeting…

She will widely smile looking at the sky and standing somewhere near and you will hear her enchanted breath…

The sound of trees will sing something looking at her face…

The winter sun peeping out of snowy clouds will silver snow with its beams on her fluttering wavy hair…

The snow will heat up and melt on her pink lips as if after a passionate farewell kiss….