Dream

 

The forest was howling

aloud

I am not mad, I hear them well!

​

“Hey you,

don’t draw a circle,

circle is silk,

it’s fragile, you

never paint a circle!”

​

must be a blackbird

with a tremulous voice

​

“Step outside the circle, you

it has a broken line, through

the wounds the wind will enter

comfortably,

the wind scares me

Go, don’t draw a circle!”

​

I thought he was rambling - a ridiculous little bird,

continued

“Leave the circle, It breaks so easily,

with touch, especially with touch

it will be a sudden blast

of glass,

of sugar.”

​

I couldn’t see him, I was going round and round

in circles

with hazy contours, but

Earth is a non-intentional space

always,

wrapped in thick ivy, yet

deprived of her own roots,

even the Gods left her

​

It was a long time ago,

a morning drowned in mist, it was

when Maenad jumped in fire

ablaze with pride,

maybe it was then

when we fell into a profound

sleep,

​

and today

we woke up here

behind, among the highest of trees

the eyes sparkle with joy - those greedy, little bastards!

they would sell their coal for a drop of sky,

forgetting the sky is painfully blue

​

I don’t know how much time has passed,

if time can be measured,

but wild orchids had already covered our skin

here they are, swaying in the air

knotweed - you said

life is stubborn, sprouts

wherever their soul craving is

​

We started picking

one by one,

like tearing off pieces

of a Dream

then, in solemn silence,

buried them deep

under the grass.

​

Tomorrow

again,

from the beginning.

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[The World is waiting to be redreamed]