giokru

In my rear view mirror the sun is going down
Sinking behind bridges in the road
And I think of all the good things
That we have left undone
And I suffer premonitions
Confirm suspicions
Of the holocaust to come

The wire that holds the cork
That keeps the anger in
Gives way
And suddenly it's day again
The sun is in the east
Even though the day is done
Two suns in the sunset
Could be the human race is run

Like the moment when the brakes lock
And you slide towards the big truck
You stretch the frozen moments with your fear
And you'll never hear their voices
And you'll never see their faces
You have no recourse to the law anymore

And as the windshield melts
My tears evaporate
Leaving only charcoal to defend
Finally I understand
The feelings of the few
Ashes and diamonds
Foe and friend
We were all equal
in the end

sorry for not responding to the notes i received from some of you...
it's three almost weeks i've got problems with the messages page, including its notes tab, so, i only can read that there are a certain number of notices, feedbacks, notes, and all the rest, but i'm not able to open the notes page...

so, for those who want to keep contact with me, i guess the only way now is to write to the following e-mail address:

krugio@hotmail.it

begging you pardon, i apologyse, hoping you will forgive this long silence...
write to me over there and you'll have me responding for sure...
thanks to everyone...

G.

"Changes, time's makin' changes in my life
Rearrangin', always changin', can't seem to stop the hands of time
Can't you see, it's changin' everything"

...that's all...

www.youtube.com/watch?v=IcNfm1…

Yo seré a tu lado,
silencio, silencio,
perfume, perfume,
no sabré pensar,
no tendré palabras,
no tendré deseos,
sólo sabré amar.

(Alfonsina Storni - Oye)


...it's a fragment of a poem, by Alfonsina Storni from Argentina...
'"i'll be by your side/silence, silence/perfume, perfume/i'll forget thinking/iwon't have no words/no longings/only, i shall love."

how great it would be, being able to do that...
how much love does it takes to reach that? how higer than any human aim would it be, such a love?
the road is built with mistakes, a long path of, a rolling constellation of dark holes left at each footstep.
fear. facing me, as my own shadow on a blank wall.
fear and regret, fear of regret, fear of hurting and being hurt.
how much will it takes to learn? how many steps more? should i stand still, should i take the next step?
how evil are my actions, how bad are my words? how selfish it all is?
how...?

'Let's go…' she said, low speaking, taking his arm and wrapping with hers, 'show me the way…'. He let her give the pace to their steps. He picked up the huge baggage she had left on the snowy ground, and she let him use that kindness. While walking, she was thinking of throwing off away any clock being in the house, any calendar or anything about dates, about time. 'Time, now, doesn't exist anymore', she thought. Weeping. Tears now were crossing the eyelids fence, cutting her cheeks as they flew in little freezing trickles. Now they came out copiously, now that he couldn't see her eyes. 'Yes, time will disappear, will fade off' she repeated to herself silently, with the strength of such a determination that she felt – for a few instants -  as to be immortal. 'You won't ever die…' he used to say to her, many years before. 'That's it, of course: he knew, he knew that time would have stopped forever one day, on a wonderful day…we both knew, both of us…'
They proceeded along the boulevard which leads out of the nameless park, twin steps, breathing out little clouds from their mouths as they were one. The bench under the oak in the Jardin Comunal was left empty, yet not looking lonely as while he was sitting on it, alone. It stood neutral as a part of the intense and lifeless whiteness of its fixed place.
The two figures went on getting smaller into the distance, until they disappeared behind a bend of the boulevard, swallowed by the purity of the snow. From the gothic bell tower, thirty past twelve did echo. Some, anxious to restore that reassuring and familiar clinking, had set the gears of the old clock free from ice.

(these are the last lines of a little short novel i wrote this morning... usually people gives out the beginning of such things. so, why the end?
everything leads to the end, isn't it? the matter is right over there, when something comes to its end. the beginning? well, i have my own, try and put your own before those words of mine...)

have a nice day, everyone out there.
G.