SONG OF ANGELS.

French realist painter William-Adolphe Bouguereau (1825-1905.)

Beyond Hope and Across the Lines.

I.
Before birth and after death,
is there anything?,
is there One god?,
is there a highest being?
Or is there emptiness,
                               a constant fall
                                                     of hope,
                                                                  of love,
                                                                             of motherhood?
Just sin.
I sing to  my ancestors' God,
the one who gave a meaning to my childhood,
a path to my adulthood.
a shelter to my old age,
There is nothing left now.
Everything is a lie,
except the inner self.

II.
Once there was a Light
that lighted the universe.
But now it has faded away across the lines
of blame,
of darkness,
of dispair.
Sorrow is a red water that spreads on a thirsty desert.
Sand starves in the sea of awareness.
The sea is the sure promise of life and death,
and sterility, of the disappearance of spiritual hurt.
The resurrection of the inner self turns into the promised land.
Everything is a lie,
except my corpse on the sands of the desert
of coldness,
of indifference,
of futility.
I walk the paths of  my ancestors' promised land.
And I know I mustn't stop walking.
There is nothing to expect now,
but the resurrection of the inner self.
Only my grandparents' voice is heard at night,
when the moon and the stars have turned off
and while white ghosts surround me.
But I keep on walking,
and I know I will reach the end.
Because I am not me,
my voice is not mine,
my feet are not mine.
My ancestors lead my path.
They show me the way.
Everything is a lie,
except their voice in my mind.
Everything is a lie,
but our inner self.




The Pope Benedict XVI prays in silence in the 26th World Youth Day at Cuatro Vientos Airport in Madrid in August 20 in 2011.
Picture from www.elmundo.es/

                                                                   

On the Borderline. (Octavio Paz and Emily Dickinson Revisited).

Between birth and death,
is there anything?
Just thoughts,
                    just sounds,
                                       just words,
                                                           just images
at the bottom of our hearts.
Everything is a lie,
but the inner self.



Apassionatta (Mike Worrall)


http://www.wisdomportal.com/PoetryAnthology/OctavioPaz-Anthology.html

http://www.wisdomportal.com/PoetryAnthology/EmilyDickinson-Anthology.html

The Eye of Time. II.- To the City of Light.

So, where can I fly to now? thought to myself as that was my first experience as a stork. Meanwhile I felt the warmer and warmer sun  rays on my feathers, I decided: Mmmmm, to the south. I turned my wings to the right. There I will find a place under the sun. I flew for hours and in my path I found many other birds, or small or big, all of us in search of that same place. I looked down and saw many different cities and villages, some were green and rainy, like Scotland and England; others were more like the Mediterranean style: white houses, swimming pools, many people, many cars. What a bright sun they have!, I exclaimed. Suddenly I saw a tall pointing tower near a wavy river; although it was brightly lighted I tried to read the big  welcoming screen which said the name of the city: it was Seville. Mmmm, I'm in Seville.  I saw a big square with a long wide road at one side and I spent several hours in the early afternoon flying over it. There were many people walking, going in and out of shops, carring big bags, having snacks in bars and terraces. I could smell the perfumes of orange and lemon blossons, of fried fish. And I listened to their loud laughs, as if all the people in that city were really really enjoying all the  happiness somebody can image in life and all the beauty around them, as so many palaces, statues and gardens full of colourful aromatic flowers, trees and fountains were spread along the city. The lights were fading slowly.  I had spent  the late afternoon walking in the shore of that green river full of small boats, crossed by several bridges that divided the city in different sections, all of them gathered around the river water. At that moment, after eating some grasses and pieces of food I had found in my way, I was aware for the first time why southern-Spanish people always seemed so happy. It's because of the sun. And then I decided: From now on, I'll call Seville "the City of Light."

The cathedral and the Giralda in Seville at dawn  (Spain)

The Eye of Time. I.- Awakenings.



It was just another morning like the thousands of mornings beforehand. But I had made a decision: to break with my past. And I was going to do it in the only way I knew: travelling. Travelling around the world, getting to know other places, other people. Time didn't matter at all. First, I prepared a light luggage (What for more?, I asked to myself)  Then I wrote an email to my closer relatives. It was short (I will keep in contact, but, please, don't try to ring neither find  me. I'm travelling). Finally, I went out my home (floor 6th in an apartments building) and I began to walk.  I went into a nearby newsagent in order to buy a world map. I paid and went on walking. "Where do I begin ?" As I was looking at the world globe, I didn't realize a car had lost its way in the road. It jumped up the pavement and crashed into me. At that moment, I felt a dark cloud all through my brain, and I could see all I have done that morning before the crash: my awakening, my decision of a new true life, my light luggage. I found myself on my bed again,  but it was only my old body, because my inner self began to fly through the window glass of my room towards the highest clouds, feeling the fresh air on my face, breathing the perfume of freedom. Then I realized it was not only my mind, but my body what was flying, feeling a new way of being alive. And I realized my mouth had turned into a long strong bill, in the same way as my legs were now long slim legs ended in sharp talons. I spred my arms widely,  the wings of a stork. I looked down and I saw the city that had been my home for all my life, the  old city, the cathedral, the bridge, the main avenues; I could listen to its old daily sounds of cars and people sharing the same space; and then I knew I was begining my true life...at last.