Scrieri vechi da bune


Scrisa in Anul Domnului 2009

Dumnezeu
a inventat fusul orar
ca sa poata fi in toate locurile odata
in timp ce se joaca de-a v-ati ascuns cu noi.
Si sa ne scuipe la final de joc
Ca sa il mai cautam o data.

Daca n-ar mai fi noapte nicicand
Si ne-am vedea fiecare pe fiecare in parte
Dumnezeu ar disparea.
Sau poate ar aparea viu pe pamant
Pentru ca, nu-i asa,
N-ar mai exista seara, ca sa-L citim in Carte.

Sau ar fi prins incercand
sa se piteasca la adapostul efemer al unei catedrale
Sa nu fie aratat cu degetul si pus la zid cu ochii inchisi
In situatia sa ne caute El pe noi
in timp ce toti fugim pe furis
sa ne-ascundem, urland osanale.

Intre cioburile din palma si pielea din palma exista o relatie intima. Transfera atomi. Sange si sticla, intr-o fotografie ce ar merita Premiul Pulitzer. Sange in sticla, sticla pe sange, inima departe de alta inima, coburi de suflet si rani supurand. Drum inchis, incins, fosforescent, indicator vomitiv “Inspre Iad”. Traim in simbioza, legati cu acelasi cordon firav de speranta. Ne hranim cu aceleasi iluzii datatoare de putere si teama. Vorbim aceeasi limba si ne rugam aceluiasi sentiment crescut in noi fara sa vrem, fara sa stim. Mintea noastra este intersanjabila, ca doua vase comunicante. Sudati. Asudati. Impreuna. Carne dezlipita, suflete siameze alergam prin desert, in acelasi desert unde intrebarile nu au raspuns, si pietrele nu au colturi, dar sunt de categorie grea. Unde nimic nu are inceput si sfarsit, si unde Fata Morgana e Adevarul si Viata.

Intre talpa alergatorului si siliciul topit exista o relatie intima. Transfera atomi.
Sange incrustat in sticla. Dincolo de timp.

Our life is simple. We make choices and we never look back. Always in between two universes, we travel endless roads only to arrive and leave again.

We never find peace in this world, so we’re making up a world of our own. Each with its own colors. We carry it inside our hearts, waiting to find an empty place to unfold it. A dreamland where we can rest our souls. A dreamland which asks for our blood and our pain, but there is no price we won’t pay.

As I am laying on the back of my mind in complete darkness, I can’t help wondering if this was written in heaven even before we were born. We’ve traveled many lives before and we will travel until the end of our mortal breaths. Or until we get there.

And we never cease to grow up. And we never cease to learn.

Sometimes we are afraid. Sometimes we feel lonely seeing the world crashing and burn around us. Sometimes we get tired and feel the need to put a gun to our heads, to put an end to this treasure quest. Sometimes we need a closure so much, we feel the urge to wrap ourselves around our broken souls and stay there forever, secluded from all emotions. But we’re always getting up, because the big prize is there, waiting, and we want to collect it.

We are what we are searching for.

Therefore, we’re happy.

Therefore, we’re free.

Therefore, we’re strong enough to rise and fall and rise again, with our faith reshaped from its own rotten corpse.

We may never find the promise land, but even if it hurts sometimes, we are walking straight ahead, eyes wide open to the inside, with the confidence only a sleepwalker can have. And we don’t regret anything and we never look back, no matter how hard is the choice to move on. Again.

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“O raza de soare trece piezis printr-un loc in care cerul de fum opac se deschide. O vad reflectata intr-un ochi de apa care anunta dezghetul. Adulmec primavara. E poate prea devreme, dar simt ca nimic nu mai poate opri primavara din drumul pe care a pornit”…