Levitating

The thoughts are like gravity pulling us down not letting us fly.     I do not speak of the flight that is being "lost in thoughts" but of the love in action, of flying through the emotions.  Like two bodies levitating in the absence of any arbitrary force,  comes the the genuine excitement of searching in the hidden, in what is not yet known, something beautiful and magical.

What is beauty but a vision we have?   can beauty be actually judged and defined or is this yet again another form of rigity, maybe beauty is something we do not judge, nor overthink  simply feel?
Can beauty be separated? the trascendental from the material?   Maybe this is yet another trap of the duality...    For what can be more beautiful than the act of levitating in time and space with the femme,  feeling fire crossing and covering all the mountains in your soul, igniting the purity that for once breaks with the chains of time and space?

Some ways of illusion may set you free for a while, but this is merely like a kidnapper letting his victim free for a little while.   Then, a Stockholm Syndrome is developed and in the fake you fall deeper and deeper.  Alcohol,  emotional and material drugs, all which create visions of what we desire is but to reinforce the shackles.

 A song wanted by so many,  though in disgrace most do not arrive to the docks of its motion.   The selfish desire tricks human into believing he does not want,  the fear of sacrifice ironically only causes him more suffering.  As for me, I only but firmly believe that be it lost in the fogs of Bohemia or obscured by clouds in the Andes,  this feeling is one but none.   The elixir of life,  the point of no return.

Once the mind had set to fly, why would one go back to being frozed?    It's so worthless losing time craving, infitely desiring.   The Sun, Moon and Time cannot be defeated,  but they can be liberated.  When there's no craving but simply plunging in love; light and shadow are forgotten.  Even the air ceases to exit.

A melody of purity,  that's what it is the unperceivable love.   Idealized, talked about, and felt briefly in life.    Not to be obsessively wished for,  but certainly to aspire to,    losing oneself from gravity and levitating in the ritual of feelings lips next to each other,   holding and protecting fervently the fille's back and arms with your warm hands,   and through her eyes never to be the same after being consumed in flames.

   

A year that vanishes

So an old year leaves and a new one arrives.   Is it just an illusion of the mind, or is time passing faster?     So many memories are left from these twelve months, yet they will too disappear as the clock continues moving forward.  

It was a year of great changes. In which the blue and frigid sun of melancholy started disappearing, setting to the west of my life.  Will it ever come back?  I do not know, yet I prefer to feel it won't.
All such winter feelings are nothing but selfish delussion, keeping one away from what exists.  An induced state of autism of which nothing is left but the corruption of relationships.   Just after the relations are gone, you notice you could have progressed so much more, yet you chose to freeze in time.

It was a year of self forgiveness.   Three hundred and sixty five days of inviting the spontaneous smile to be part of my journey.  It was also too opening the gates of the intellect once again,  dealing with the world, concluding negotiations, and founding the pillars of reconciliation with what life is meant to be.    Spiritual progress, physical strenghtening, intellectual increase.

Like a flame which changes in density and even color from moment to moment, so one feels life has become.   Time and events change this flame to a different shape.    Some features of existence cease to be,  a new and more reflective state of things appear.
Of all this I can only say it is natural.  For what is more tragic than witnessing the wheel of time going by yet not changing a single bit?          It is indeed better being friends with time, submitting to its pace, rather to running against it thinking you can actually win.    Confronting time will only bring the typical pain of attachment,  while being friends with him gives you the experience of knowing this moment hasn't exist before, and won't exist anymore.    When you weave life according to time's script more joy is to be found.

Yes indeed, two thousand thirteen was a year of shift.   My positive features have remained, and I have recovered along the road. Some of them, which had been lost long ago.   There was the love, the innocence,  new roots for spontaineity,  as also the identification of the inner fire.   A flame that had been God knows where for a long time, has appeared again.   A strong flame which I believe will now on help me reach every singe purpose in life.
In this year I have exorcised the fear, doubt, and self punishment which I had given unto myself.   Now seeing there was nothing productive out of behaving like a monk from centuries ago.  Such road it seems was not meant to be for me.     In freedom, free will and innocent folliness better motions I can manifest.

I also thank life for presenting me impacting characters in my life.   Even the maiden of hope which lies far away, gave me hundreds of moments to be happy for.


As of the new year I do not know, but I perceive and presume.   There are some chapters of life to be closed, that I truly though not desperately, want to close.    Also, there's many that are meant to be open.    The folliness of an innocent hedonism and la vie en rose lie ahead.     Its the chapter that follows that of restraint,   and that comes before the one
of union.