You Came

At a time that just passed, here upon this rock, where the tears of the silent and initiated hearts have been etched forever; time stopped, the clock went quiet, and as the beat of my heart continued to loudly sound like the talanton, like the voice of the subtle breeze, it was you that came. And here, my darling, you appeared again lovingly, through the sacred paths of my wounded mind, in the scene of my secret and invisible life.

It’s already morning, it is already night, and you’re still beside me. At each step, you want me to see freely, not through the right or the left eye, nor through the logic which is recycled like a square box, but with the heart, that the most beautiful thing, the most gracious, arises through the quietness of senses and humble sacrifice which only knows how to be emptied.

So, here I encounter with admiration your right hand which, although wounded, keeps the swallow of hope intact. Behold, I also see a rose in your left hand which you offer me because of being in love.

You are my port in the stormy sea, my joy in every difficulty. Your wounded hands are my cozy nest. But how it that from your right emerges what the air embraces and how from your left what the soil longs?

I engrave novel pages in my hectic life and direct myself with simplicity in the yesterday of my purer soul. I walk and I go, stepping barefoot; and like you did once, I am painting mysteries on the sand. With my lips unworthy, but filled with hope, like the child of his very own noble mother’s, I touch the milk of your love. I become a partaker of your face and, because of the intense flash of your light, I blossom without water and soil.