Dark

Rugaciune muta, spre cerul din care picura venin... Soapte adanci, purtand cu ele si ultima raza de lumina, lasand in urma, doar alb de doliu si ninsoare profunda... Nu sunt voci care sa strige amarul, nu sunt priviri din care sa picure mania, nu sunt urechi care sa auda vaietul... Doar liniste mata, si fara noima, ridicata parca din adancimea apelor tulburi... Nu sunt culori, nu sunt zambete, nu sunt adieri de vant... nu e nimic. Gol... pustiu, umbre de sare... Toate se sfarsesc undeva. Doar ca nimeni nu-ti spune ca sfarsitul s-ar putea sa fie etern. Sa nu se mai termine. Sa n-aiba inceput si nici final. Si atunci cand te trezesti traind un sfarsit fara sfarsit, te intrebi la ce bun... Nimic din ceea ce ai sperat si ti-ai dorit n-a prins forma, nimeni nu e in spatele tau sa te legene atunci cand vrei sa fii copil, sa te mangaie atunci cand vrei sa dormi imbratisata, sa te sarute atunci cand iti doresti pasiune nestavilita... Numai liniste, liniste ca intr-o padure inaintea furtunii... doar ca furtuna nu mai prinde contur, nu se mai naste, si ramai asteptand cu disperare un sunet, un fosnet, o umbra... Urme de unghii inclestate in palme, urlet mut si surd, fara noima, durere brusca si terifianta... NIMIC... gol, spatiu, si prea multa liniste... mult prea multa...
Doare...
A.

Instinct primar

E intuneric si vant si zgomot ca de cascade in sufletul meu... Ma misc incet, parca filmata in reluare, prin lumea asta ciudata, fara sa gasesc un scop, un raspuns... Imi place ploaia. Neagra, repede, salbatica, plina de fulgere... Strang in mine furie, si cand ploua, parca toata se sterge. Ma intreb cateodata, de unde capacitatea asta ciudata de a uri cu aceeasi forta cu care iubesc... De unde puterea de a deveni animal de prada atunci cand ma simt incoltita, chiar si in fata oamenilor pe care ii respect cel mai tare, ii iubesc cel mai mult... Dar de cele mai multe ori nu ma intreb. Doar o traiesc. Ura. Frustrarea, ca nu reusesc sa-i fac pe cei spre care mi se indreapta sentimentele astea, sa se topeasca dintr-o privire. Sa dispara pe vesnicie. Si pe urma, imi aduc aminte ca nici n-as vrea. Pentru ca deliciul suprem, momentul de fericire pura, e atunci cand ii vad stand intinsi, invinsi, mutilati in timp ce eu ma ridic si merg mai departe. Aveam senzatia intr-o vreme, ca depind de cineva. Ca viata mea, e legata iremediabil de o persoana, de un concept, de o idee... Nu. Nu depind de nimeni. Nu cred decat in mine, si in puterea mea de a trece mai departe, de a ma ridica, de renaste din fiecare cadere. Recunosc in mine, egoismul, lipsa de modestie, sindromul narcisist, specifice instinctului de conservare... cele care insotesc animalul cel mai puternic... Dispare orice urma de umanitate? Oare? Nu. Pur si simplu umanitatea e un lucru pe care n-am la ce sa-l folosesc in momentul in care ma simt tradata... sau abandonata... sau mintita... atunci tot ceea ce imi vine in minte sunt gheare si dinti inclestati in gatul celui din cauza caruia sunt jos, si din cauza caruia trebuie sa reincep urcusul... Nici urma de sentimente inaltatoare, nici urma de dragoste si compasiune... nici urma de cer senin... Primal insinct at it's best... doar asa simt ca reusesc.
Imi doresc totusi sa nu-mi revad fata asta prea des. Cateodata ma sperie si pe mine...
Dar nu azi.
A.

RAIN...

Breathe... Let the air rush inside your lungs, close your eyes, lean your head backwards, and let the rain catch you... Swallow... and take the taste of the drops of rain deep inside yourself... Smell the savage perfume of the stars dropping from the sky... tears of heaven... Feel the gentle caress of the night, touching your neck, your hands, your whole body...
Storm... crazy wind coming from inside yourself, crushing and tearing every last beat of humanity that you possess, thunders revealing the shadows of your past, present and future, lightnings breaking the skies of your imagination...
Born in the storm, living inside it, making it real as often as your strength allows you, daughter of never ending rain... feeling it's taste, it's smell, it's touch...
Every time it' s storm you regain your powers. Like the bird of legend from it's fire... Your soul feeds on it. Your hands scratch the dark horizons trying to make them bleed rain. Your eyes call for the cold drops like a silent, pagan prayer. You bite your lips, and clench your fists waiting for the thousands heart beats that you hear in the rain. You turn your head sideways, just like waiting for the hand that should caress you.
Deep dark rainy night... your soul is trapped inside the drops, bursting out every time it touches the earth.
Breathe...
A.

ALL HOLLOW'S EVE

The night when the boundary between the living and the dead becomes blurry... Being such as it is, I almost forgot the meaning that this holyday has. For most it's just a time to party and trick-or-treat. There are though, a few that remember it's meaning beyond the comercial part of it. Partying is it? How about shadows coming from the past? How about dead loved ones coming one step closer than in any night of the year? How about spirits calling your name in a desperate attempt to make you remember them? How about missing those that left a part of them inside your soul? Saying their name outloud at least once in a while so that they can hear someone calling for them? How about dialogue with yourself, trying to remember the moments you had with them? Watching the sky, in a moment of silence, trying to catch a glimpse of their looks beneath the stars? I miss... long list of people that I miss. And I got to thinking of them last night. Sad? Not really. Just trying to imagine my life with them still in it. Unfortunately, it's just an exercise. Since no amount of imagination on this earth could make me realise how my life would be with them besides me.
Thank you all, though, for being there, and for teaching me something about life, at one point of my existence...
And I give you my love...
A.