Covered with so much green is the flower. Covered with protection, not feeling the fear.
The flower feels she is blood, feels she is part of the root, the root of the tree.
With time comes the wind, and it blows hard; the flower resists leaving the tree; the warmth of his lap; the shelter he gave, when she was in life, being part of his life, when the energy flows downstream to the end.
A flower that falls in the air, covered with so much green, moves in the wind; feeling no more; accepting that it is like that "The life she lived", the life that she felt as there is no more beautiful life than living the lived live until the breath of life goes away.
Cubierta de tanto verde esta la flor. Cubierta de protección no sintiendo temor. La flor se siente sangre es parte de la raíz, la raíz del árbol.
Llega con el tiempo el viento y sopla fuerte; la flor se resiste a dejar el árbol; a dejar de respirar el mismo aire, el aire que la mantiene viva.
Una flor que cae al aire, siente en los segundos al caer, el recuerdo de su árbol; el calor de su regazo; el cobijo que le dio, al estar ella en vida, al ser parte de su vida, cuando se desliza la energía hasta el final.
Una flor que cae al aire, cubierta de tanto verde, se desplaza en el viento; dejando de sentir; aceptando que es así ''La vida que vivió'', la vida que sintió; pues no hay más bella vida de vivir lo vivido hasta que el soplo de la vida se nos va.
Tus manos lentamente se deslizan en la piel, la piel de una mujer vestida del ayer. Se deslizan y buscan los sentidos ocultos del pensamiento, tus manos cargadas de energía, se llenan de miel, le pasas en los labios con la punta de tus dedos lo dulce que llevas, vestido de hombre sientes sus deseos, su sueño de estar una noche con Morfeo, los dedos de la mano tocan súbitamente sus cejas, los dedos de la mano, sienten el calor del cuerpo. Y cuando es de día, despiertas están tus manos junto a ella, tu mano, junto a sus dedos, en el piel a piel de los cuerpos, en el sentir la misma temperatura. Los dedos de la mano quien escribe para ti. Te quiero
Vida, que vienes en las venas, que traes mil años de sueños “dorados” Vida, que traes la esencia de la naturaleza; mujer; única; incomparable Vida, que das sin pedir y eres enteramente eterna en la sonrisa de tu ser Risas…la niñez.
Viajando vas en el viaje de la vida..los años pasan sigues siendo tu… ¡Esa ola de mar! que juega en el infinito que siente que vive…que se traduce en “Tu Fuerza”
There came through the windows the air; she was sleeping.She moved and her skin breathed the air, she moved slowly, bit by bit. The wind blew, the curtain moved around and brought the air from outside, outside, the other place that she didn’t know and she was keeping her dreams behind all the time.
The night was so long and there were ghosts playing in her mind. One of them was an old man that had a very strong look; he was the first one that liked to play with the secret that she didn’t find and that she was really always looking for, day after day. She woke up and felt a little lazy. All the energy that human life used when they sleep is enough to light a whole city especially when our dreams show us our future, feeling, our ghost. She couldn’t forget that face of the first ghost. “The old man”, before she woke up, had told her. “Live slowly don’t run!” and he had laughed like a crazy man. She prayed like a child afraid that some one would take her soul and that she would never come back, afraid to be in darkness, afraid to life, afraid to die.
Suddenly she went to the kitchen and drank a glass of water. She prepared everything to go to work as always. And tried to forget it (the bad dream). For a moment she entered the real world, the voices began to show her that she wasn’t alone, she was surprised that she was so excited to be there, normally she always was acting like she understood very well the situation of the company but this day she felt alive, living in a office chatting with her friends, she smiled, finally the hours finished.She thought again “back home” what to eat, who was waiting for her, probably where she could go to eat, she was always alone, nobody in human life understood her. At least some cats that always came to eat the breadcrumbs lying in the terrace. Cats speak in reality a secret language that most of the people don’t understand. At the same time they express a silent that speaks about emotion, feelings that make a sad woman feel understood.
Finally she ate, went to the room; when she was taking a bath someone phoned. She looked up to the wall and thought “phone”.Nobody was interested in her, no father no mother no brother or even sister; all the family had disappeared, died, maybe they were lost. She could remember them so she took the phone and heard a very sweet voice that made the air sing say “hello”.She woke up, she was dreaming when she heard this voice, it was someone that had called the wrong number. Finally back in bed, she took a book and began to dream, again. The night was cold and the spirit was playing outside, but this time she didn’t dream with him. ”The old man”. This time there was a child that ran all the time around her and when she wanted to take the child, the child smiled but he didn’t have eyes, she shouted and ran.In two minutes she was in a hospital, many persons walked and took patients to the emergency room; every one in the beds had a skull with very little skin. A mask was wrapped around to protect the face from the energy of the sun that had come on her face, she woke up and cried.
Another day she stood up, alone in her room saw the cat around her legs, she greeted “Sweet dear, you give me the good morning” she said, then she saw the time.She thought “I am late for work” she hurried up, took the bus. In the bus there weren’t many people for a normal day of work, “what happened” she thought. She asked the driver why the bus was so empty; the driver smiled and told her “Dear, this is a normal Saturday “people in England most of the time don’t work”. “Shame”, she thought, “that it is Saturday”. “Yes dear, yes”, the driver said.
A Saturday meant for her to be alone, alone with no family, no one to talk to. She thought “I will go to the cinema like always, see a movie and then come back home, eat a chocolate and maybe drink a cup of wine or maybe, like every weekend, sit down and read until she finished a book and other book”.Finally she fell asleep…”OPEN YOUR EYES”. She heard a very soft voice calling her, her skin was so soft and sensitive to any change of the weather, then when she looked in the mirror she saw that there was her face looking at her, she touched it, it was a little bit painful to see that face.
The routine killed her. Every day the same people around her, she had a special soul like many people have, but she was very special, she had a beautiful angel inside her, but no one, not any one could see the real child that she was and many times people didn’t understand her just because they were too small-minded.
Back at home the door was open. When she tried to open it, there was water on the floor, she started to clean, something that she was happy to do. Not bad for a routine day, cleaning the kitchen. A voice told her when she was cleaning “Easy Sandra, think.” Think about what or whom? At that moment she started crying and remembered that she was alone, alone.
Locked up in the ghost of her memory, Sandra was dying, she lived in a condition that she could never understand or be told about, dead and living and her dreams, playing with her madness, the madness that made her kill the love of her life and desperate because of guilt.He had had an accident, and she stayed punish with the ghost that she never wanted to see really. One madness full of loneliness.
Esa noche a solas en tu habitación; me infiltro en tu vientre y hacemos el amor volvemos a sentir y quiero verte “Allí” donde nos conocimos, el destino de vernos iguales de compartir lo dulce que es esto que lleva sentimiento que eres, tu y solo yo, en el silencio, en el viento en todo lo que somos…Vida.”
Se escapa el aire y envenena los corazones de paz, estas otra vez intenso, constante guardián de la nostalgia sintiendo...Amor.
Ayer la luna parió almas Ayer jugaron los dioses y las estrellas Júpiter con su lengua amó a Venus.. Le dio con el roce mil y un mil noches de pasión Sudado el vientre...de Venus Mojada la nostalgia...se fundió…EL AMOR
Once upon a time in the west there was a small baby that had a light in his eyes…a beautiful smile and a strong mind; a baby that had a gift. “The gift of Love”
The sun rose in the west when he was born. The cries of his father and mother only sounded to help him know what love is…a kind baby a sweet baby…with a beautiful smile.
Love…love…he grew up and very soon he met the people he had to meet. "The demons of life". He had to proof that he was love and that he was love all the time and that never he was alone. God always was with him…Love sweet love…Once upon a time in the west Jesus was a child.. Love. Sweet love.
Carta que llevas las ganas paridas de amar Llevas contigo las energías llenas de sentirme entre sus manos; de derretirme como mantequilla ante el filo de sus labios. Carta que me lleva a la locura de pensarte; soñarte; desearte; morderte; besarte; dejarte penetrar cada poro de mi piel…Carta de amor.
