Lean in and Throw your hand
into the thin crispy air
Even if you don’t have anything.
Your offer is will
And it will be grabbed
with violence and hearty gratitude
When the hypothesis seems like a stranger
And the results hold your feet to the ground.
Illumination in the street
Illumination in my mind
Where small restless details combine
And the whole picture
Leads to a treasure.
The map to the discovery
Is old and wrinkled yet always new
And highly personal.
Rediscover the minutes
Passing unnoticed while you work.
Annoyed by waiting times,
I waste the gift of those small breaks
Daydreaming me out of the lab
And laying me on a silvery beach,
At least for a while.
My lips cannot pronounce
The impact of these numbers
But only imagine it and suggest it
With metaphors and little confidence.
Numbers talk to me
And they swirl into a portray of our future
That hardly graphics can describe.
You are heavy and rich
Of a world that absorbs me
And to which my imagination is deeply attracted
At Any minute of the day.
The story is hanging
And the characters incomplete.
By reading, I fill them with me life
And complete them.
I evade the white sheets
And the pressing characters
That ask for more writing.
No daydreaming is allowed at work
My hands are enthusiastic
And my heart jumps
When the free minutes combine
And the time for poetry comes.
I run, I sweat, I take off
For the holiday of the day.
Young woman with a sculptured character
You Prevent me from running blindly
Towards a mirage with a blurred profile
And from grabbing with direct hands my illusions.
You keep me connected
To the world of decisions and actions
Where perfection is unnecessary
And purposes are valuable.
By the water, in the sun,
I draw an imaginary picture of life today.
Balloons of dialogues
And question marks from work
Fill the white populated by the people
Colours are not sure
But the voids will be filled
And the day will get its tone.
The absurd colours of nature
Ones me with their extravagance and personality.
No such bravery is permitted
In the world of humans.
Homologation as a rule to success
Reveals its limits
In the grey of clothes
And the monochrome of personalities.
Dreaming and thinking
At a double speed
To see yourselves grow
Started you down but seeds personal satisfaction.
Tortured by the question
of who you will become
You embark on a rushed slalom
On a tiny wild canoe
And steer crazy to
Escape the illusion of control.
Sunny day with a lazy face,
Stand by me and lull me through the hours
Of this nonsensical routines.
The door opens silently
And the imagination escapes
Into the bright landscape
Holding hands with my secret plans.
How to, is never a question
When the idea sweeps you away.
Sunny or rainy, cold or hot,
And you see only the future
In front of you.
The imagination flies free
And experiments are quick
Telling stories that fascinate the society
And provide talks over the coffee.
Scatter on the paper
Those ideas and thoughts
that kept you awake.
Poke your inner child
and put them in graphics
With simple lines and basic colours.
A sentence of seven parts
Can delineate your message.
The days are crowded and futile
But remember to carry your lens
In your personal pocket.
Search the details that hide in the folds
And under the shoes
But define those who think
and appreciate the moments like you do.
Through your lens
Your partners, friends, and lovers
Will shine like under falling frozen snow
And you can get closer with confidence.