|Agonia.Net | Policy | Advertising||Contact | Participate|
|Poetry Personals Prose Screenplay Essay Press Article Communities Contest Special Literary Technique|
￭ Epistle of a millennial
- - -
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
2013-11-26 | |
"Kiss me with the kisses of his mouth.
Your caress praise more than the wine"
It's pathetically clear this road, I have
only tears in my eyes. They are my tears, do not fear. You were prepared for a long journey, a pretentious one,
not less arrogant than the others.
Almost indecipherable. But no. Now let me read.
The pagan of travel, in the holy book. Books, of course, that make you feel fear and desire. Me - I'm just happy. I am with your.
Somewhere the music sounds sophisticated, but everything is so simple in fact. And it hurts. I am insinuating laughing ...
The road starts right from my womb rounded as a grapes that can crush almost decaying in your teeth. Melon gloss that shines somewhere in the margins of an imaginary Baragan. It's hot, and the seconds are dissolving in our cascading breath. Somewhere I feel how the waiting and the desire are sparkling in your eyes.
I'm fine so you see me, I am strong and obedient.
"On the right are loved. You tell me that you love
my heart, where you graze your flock, where you rest at
afternoon ? Greenery is our bed. Cedars are our homes and cypress beams are our floors. "
An indiscreet slip of your gaze make me
jerk. A sigh, early, unexpectedly opens
senses and your hands stay near my hands now. One in
harmony with one another. In an universal balance
with my hands.
What do you look at now. You look as if
I'd never seen before. I did not even seen as I see you now.
Then I feel how you rebuild, cell by cell, already tired because so much effort, always different and yet so
mine. "Taking in possession " whispers
somewhere a thought in my mind.
What nonsense. I am offering you all my soul, hidden
between cypresses that you grow every finger
shyness. You see how you're taller pagan temple into an oasis apparent in a deep tranquility. You're my temple.
In the right side I've planted cedars in your eyes, and I let you to . rest. Useless toil, already knew . Cypresses have open petals, their scent enveloped me. You are now
as I have dreamed, the raw greens we
surround and have multiplied beyond measure.
The smell creeping staggering. From somewhere above, a bird
of Paradise plays the most beautiful love poem .
"Strengthen me with raisins, refresh me with
apples, because I am sick of love. To put
left hand under my head and keep me tight."
It's simple. Apparently it's very simple, forward speed
light to anywhere. I'm afraid . I read and
begin to understand. I did not feel like waiting all come
to you. Somewhere, from your eyes, it
flips me a basket of red apples, grapes
bluish, yellow pears, cherries...
Are you scared? No, not at all, I say.
Let me live now, in this very second, all
the seasons with you. With you. I expected to come
the spring four times this year, but brought with it
promises of apples, grapes and greenery. I know that
you know that we can not afford to talk
too much. You learn to shut up, so I can
then hear your cry. Insight me.
"My beloved speaks to me and tells me: Arise,
and love, come my love. My beloved is mine
and I am his: he is living among the lilies. "
Of course we can not rush the moment, I have no desire
to hurry right now, but that breaks me, I cut
taking me dissipates. A strange chemistry
formula builds Baroque lines among
our fingers clenched so desperate, and
yet so quiet.
I want to watch with your eyes, with
big eyes, I feel you waiting as a lava ooze on my spine. I
draw the fingers on your back lilies, royal lilies. I'm crazy because of you with all my senses I try to fell. I let down the game, it is to much now, we can breath.
We oppose all the old love stories that have
already built in our expectations. Yet
trying. The game is always the same. But always another.
"Your belly is a glass round , where it
missing wine, your body is a sheaf of wheat,
with lilies. Please, sweet daughters of
Jerusalem, do not arouse or awaken love when until
it comes to you..."
Marathon or sprint? Surfing or diving ? Who else
knows and who cares ... Time is not everything
happens in a split second. Rituals yet
indecipherable open the book all the silence
And I feel that I brokenness. It's too much. Do not anything, you do not afford to smile, you're still only a
cried silent and a calling. As I imagine. I knew
much as it's gonna get. But it hurts too much, because I recognize you in myself. I cry. Now shut up.
The strange music stops.
Our echo waving in reverberations
"Set me as a seal upon your heart, as a seal upon
your arm, the love is strong as the death ... Come
quickly, love, like a roe or a young hart
in the mountains which are full of spices!"
That smell of lilies you've never once insinuated
in my senses... And let me breathe now. Breathe is so
beautiful because it is through your gills .
A new story is born.
You are here, the silence makes me close my eyes.
(August 2002 )
|Home of Literature, Poetry and Culture. Write and enjoy articles, essays, prose, classic poetry and contests.|