.
There is a time for joy there is a time for sorrow. Someone is born, someone is dying. This is how life goes...
And the beams are dancing.
And the sky is crying, is crying so hard.
I used to say that the sky is crying if someone special dies...And it's raining powerfully...
Someone's voice, someone's eyes...someone's hand caressing the time and vanishing in time.
"I never thought I'll be wondering on the paths of love ..."
The wings of memory - where have you lost a feather? What time? What year? What story?
A heart beat... of love? or fear?
"Sometimes when I couldn't sleep, I used to ask her about the children and all my loved ones"
Why are you running in the wind my feather?
Family. Union. Missing.
"Later on we heard a different song like a happy march from the youngsters."
Playground or play torture?
"And there they were waiting - the emperor and his sons..."
Another story? A story into the story... A fantasy to break the reality. From?
"The prison is obliged by the international laws to bring us to a more favorable regime for the political prisoners"
What? I thought ... I thought this was about...
Life?
It's pouring rain, rain that becomes fog. The wings are wet and heavy. A piece of bread moisten by the rain for the sky birds, left behind for a crusader by a man from Cyrene, named Simon, and they forced him to carry the cross.
"The crucified Jesus didn't correspond with the idea the Jews had about the Messiah. The waited Messiah is the one that will..."
Sacrifice or hope. Just wings many wings too wet and heavy to fly, holding each other into a warm hug. And the wind, a fiercely wind that bit at times feathers, and flesh and bones all at once.
"I only worked for two weeks. In my career as a teacher I have been removed the third time from my class."
A hand guiding another. A note of a song. A book. A calculation and a drawing. All and none for you, yet. Beating wings...harder and harder. More feathers lost...into the past.
"I didn't know what to tell him about all those troubles, but I assured him that God is carrying for us and those we left home."
Eaves, trees, a hollow. No, not a hollow for such a harsh memory- that would be too kind.
Distance again. For how long? How tangled are these paths, God?
"There a bright horizon opened for me - We will leave with all the family...The children were happy because they were children, but we brought with us the blessing of being together."
It has stopped. The rain has stopped. A pause in time to let the wings fly free. Not to touch the sun, but to enjoy its majesty. A rainbow to paint the wings and other wings that learn to fly...to bring peace to the heart.
"We proved that anybody can live these wonderful BIG JOYS the entire life, due to one LOVE to which you discovered the PATHS."
And the wings of memory fly from a moment to another - from a joy to a pain and another birth, re-birth, death.
"And that young man that felt a boundless love for his Princess, that embodied the immortal ideas of Good, Beautiful, Freedom and Truth...holding hands in front of the altar, the young man from before, now in his elderly years, with his Dulcinea they whispered a prayer:
And now release in peace your follower, My Lord, because I have seen your Salvation with my own eyes. Amen!"
Cloudy with clear breaks or silent rain...a feather to hold for those that will come. The time will clear the path and they will hold the memory of a past long, long gone that runs in their blood.
They say only special people die in a Saint day.
To someone special: May God rest your soul in peace!
There is a time for joy there is a time for sorrow. Someone is born, someone is dying. This is how life goes...
And the beams are dancing.
And the sky is crying, is crying so hard.
I used to say that the sky is crying if someone special dies...And it's raining powerfully...
Someone's voice, someone's eyes...someone's hand caressing the time and vanishing in time.
"I never thought I'll be wondering on the paths of love ..."
The wings of memory - where have you lost a feather? What time? What year? What story?
A heart beat... of love? or fear?
"Sometimes when I couldn't sleep, I used to ask her about the children and all my loved ones"
Why are you running in the wind my feather?
Family. Union. Missing.
"Later on we heard a different song like a happy march from the youngsters."
Playground or play torture?
"And there they were waiting - the emperor and his sons..."
Another story? A story into the story... A fantasy to break the reality. From?
"The prison is obliged by the international laws to bring us to a more favorable regime for the political prisoners"
What? I thought ... I thought this was about...
Life?
It's pouring rain, rain that becomes fog. The wings are wet and heavy. A piece of bread moisten by the rain for the sky birds, left behind for a crusader by a man from Cyrene, named Simon, and they forced him to carry the cross.
"The crucified Jesus didn't correspond with the idea the Jews had about the Messiah. The waited Messiah is the one that will..."
Sacrifice or hope. Just wings many wings too wet and heavy to fly, holding each other into a warm hug. And the wind, a fiercely wind that bit at times feathers, and flesh and bones all at once.
"I only worked for two weeks. In my career as a teacher I have been removed the third time from my class."
A hand guiding another. A note of a song. A book. A calculation and a drawing. All and none for you, yet. Beating wings...harder and harder. More feathers lost...into the past.
"I didn't know what to tell him about all those troubles, but I assured him that God is carrying for us and those we left home."
Eaves, trees, a hollow. No, not a hollow for such a harsh memory- that would be too kind.
Distance again. For how long? How tangled are these paths, God?
"There a bright horizon opened for me - We will leave with all the family...The children were happy because they were children, but we brought with us the blessing of being together."
It has stopped. The rain has stopped. A pause in time to let the wings fly free. Not to touch the sun, but to enjoy its majesty. A rainbow to paint the wings and other wings that learn to fly...to bring peace to the heart.
"We proved that anybody can live these wonderful BIG JOYS the entire life, due to one LOVE to which you discovered the PATHS."
And the wings of memory fly from a moment to another - from a joy to a pain and another birth, re-birth, death.
"And that young man that felt a boundless love for his Princess, that embodied the immortal ideas of Good, Beautiful, Freedom and Truth...holding hands in front of the altar, the young man from before, now in his elderly years, with his Dulcinea they whispered a prayer:
And now release in peace your follower, My Lord, because I have seen your Salvation with my own eyes. Amen!"
Cloudy with clear breaks or silent rain...a feather to hold for those that will come. The time will clear the path and they will hold the memory of a past long, long gone that runs in their blood.
They say only special people die in a Saint day.
To someone special: May God rest your soul in peace!
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