At times,
The divine interpretation wasn't enough
To know.
It was the violet hour
I, the lover of daydream
And as a storm, brown eyes would crash mine next.
Static as a rock, blinded by the sun
Reflecting on his golden skin
Angelic honey waterfall
Can turn into vinegar in a split.
Violence, as nature, stopping our dance
Like ants, collecting, moving
Feelings underground, and links
Burning like bridges leading to an island.
The port was open at that time,
I was naive, walked what felt like hours
Through black and wet pieces of wood on the water, eventually, deep into the sea.
Silent in the night, he listened to the dark
And twice would ask for a light
And thrice would wish that it will be all over
The noise, the waves, music, pollution, and us.
La la la la la la
La la la
La….
The photo was taken by me in Buenos Aires, November 20, 2018. Sunset.
Music can be a deceptive weapon that can inspire, but also destroy. Today I was on those weird times traveling from one place to another. I got inspired to write this by listening to an old french singer.
I think that letting myself be guided by her sad voice, I was imagining a very abstract story of two people falling in and out of love. Their first encounter, on the sun, and the first strike of attraction and sweetness, followed by the approach of night, would represent the end of the relationship, which would happen on long docks by the coast.
Love is a journey, and we all pray that it doesn't have an end, but in reality, only the strong have the courage to change, adapt, compromise, and be patient and wise. Otherwise, most probably, we could find ourselves at the end of the docks, alone, laying down in the moving wooden steps, wondering how to come back to shore.
I wish that all of you would continue to be healthy and thriving, despite the harshness of these times. Sending regards to all, I thank you if you stopped by to check on this post.
Until next time.
Cesar.
