I’m kind of
up to the clusters.
There’s no aim, no reason
why I’ve been burning candles
but my own pleasure to see ‘em
burning, the wax melting, the time
passing, dancing in the air, raising
up to the ceiling, up to the sky, erasing
the shapes, the colours to touch, to give
another form to, to watch going wherever
they could, following the flow, slowly, unfolding
the forms. There they went, there they were, there they go.
“Pictures don’t lie”, do you remember that song?… I do, I always do.
I won’t say it looking into the fridge of past lies though, I will
not ever think it twice more, I’d be who I’ve been but maybe
a little grown, you know, aware I’d say, even more, what
I’ve been thinking about these days is in the chant I’ve
heard, too much to talk about; it’s silent as much as
a snowdrop up on a cliff could be while down the valley
revolution is bleeding, still, kicking the iron, unrevealing
everything in sight since ages, everything that’s burning
down with the Casbah, while you rock, keep, and roll with
the moss that we’ve gathered through the fire we escaped
and left behind in the dust of empires. Keep it in, keep it
safe, let it go. Yes I know you know, I’ve cared for you.
Byword of the day: “if only the young knew, if only the elder could”