You cannot escape
the rays of the sun
On a December morning.
They attract and recharge you
When no entertainment
Autumn surrounds me
And brings warmth and reasons
Worth its orange destined leaves.
The colours of fire
Bring life into a nature soon to rest.
Time will come
That the hopeful green
Will surprise me.
A pinch of sunlight
Can decorate this Thursday
And mark it as a new memory.
October of sorrow, expectation, and rest
Has now sparks of life
To jump to in the difficult days.
The hidden villages in the mountains
Enjoyed quiet and family,
While watching the progress rush around.
The luxury is over
And things come from the big world
And feelings are drained
From the alpine people.
On the sunny grass,
I refuse to count the minutes
And abandon myself into the light
And into this book with potential.
In a cone of rays,
Life seems logical
And nature an expected component,
Fast from the arrogant asphalt
I caress my petals in the sun
And embrace the astonishing landscape
Of water and mountains
Dotted with white fluffy sheep
With short memory.
I turn and stare absorbing the energy
And keep it within.
I have no idea of what power
Is pulling the sun up today,
Across a deserted sky of summer loneliness.
I can estimate that strength
And find carefully inside myself
To push myself through the chores
Of the office, of the hobbies, of the marriage.
In the dark I wake up
Hoping for a day of laughter and lightness
In front of the screen, behind the cubicle.
Nobody wants to offer their energy to the group
And unconsciously waits for the good Samaritan.
Come to work to get and grab
And not to give
You might preserve your inner balance
You lose a day to enjoy.
I am hanging confused today
On the brink of a chair
Trying to decide if I am
Dried or energized
By the millions of interactions,
And the instinctual clicks of the day.
I feel today like a diapason
Vibrating to the light and dispensing
a push to change inside.
Shaken and torn
The others move and progress.
Here I am in the boring train
Vibrating through the night.
No finger coming closer.
Apparent and joyful to my eyes.
Sitting at the desk,
I can imagine its energy
And feel my skin vibrating.
I long for the sun
That neglects this office
To embrace those working open-air.
The seed slowly dies
Until spring when with effort
Gives life to the plant
He always condensed.
No doubts or mistakes
He can make
And only that true plant
Lost in doubts,
I cannot grow.
A cold March awaits me
With those young pointy flowers
that stars at me curious during my walks.
A whole brought season in front,
The do not look back to the cold winter
And happily channel their energy
To shine this year.
No promised result, no guaranteed next year, only one year more.
Being good being yourself
The spark is back in your head
And the fall of ideas is now unstoppable.
The heat is up
In your body afraid for so long
And reactions are quick
Like instinctual impulses
When the enthusiasm is back.
Your talent cannot be lost
But it will always come to the surface
When you feel good being yourself.
Your words tell me successes
And bravery to launch your career
Despite the critics.
But I can read you.
Your hands tell me fear of the future
And confidence threatened by the established opinions.
I will hold your hand for free,
Not sure if you would return the favour.
She is coming quick paced
From the distant end of the visual
But her energy precedes her.
These rare people paint our life yellow
And poke a finger at our rear
To push us up
Like an uncontrollable spring
Moving in unforseen directions
Of equal fascination.