What tickles my mind
in this dark winter day?
Worries of career, fears of loneliness
This undetermined future of ours
Join forces and seed doubts.
I drop my anchor
In the small achievements in my wallet
And those tiny ideas shining in the dark.
Untouchable and at limit of believing
I force my breath down
In this difficult theatrical living.
It swirls, it warms, it takes,
Attention and proportion.
The sun hits your back
While standing in the gray yard
Waiting for the cigarette to end.
Thoughts of acceptance
Of an uncontrollable wild reality
And their daily rejection
Free space in the mind
And in the day.
The distance you cannot measure
Keeps you locked and bound to the ground
Like a chain of steel.
Kilometers of memories and nostalgia
Unroll reach moment
Their loving faces emerge
From the corner of thoughts
To be able to go on.
Questioning what is right
And the correctness of a situation
Is no recipe for rest.
No meaningful sleep comes
From thriving on troubled waters
and cloudy days of the mind.
I am starving today
For those warm afternoons running in the fields
And those silent evenings reflecting on a book.
Food for the avid mind
And food for the temperamental belly
Do not overlap
And are complementary.
Squeeze your mind
In the bright day
and observe the drops on the table.
The red line of your everyday
Is condensed and finally clear.
Dried it leaves your successes behind.
The regret for those ideas
Of brilliant impact
Testing on the sofa
Of lack of equipments
And of lack of time
Takes my sleep away.
Today I moved then
From the sofa to the corridor
Ready to go out
And get tested open air.
I live the paradox
Of being tired by sitting
And being bored by data plotting.
Refusing the surrounding drama
I enjoy my own thoughts and daydream
With my mind as a private cinema.
Travelling through the rain
And wishing a quiet meaningful future.
As a self cuddle available everywhere,
Even on the train.
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.
Crispy air of the winter,
Tickle my cells and frees my ideas
While my hands race my intentions
And type wild on the keyboard.
My neurons giggle
at the thought of closing the chapter
Of harvesting the touch grains
That costed me so much
Yet fueled my enthusiasm.
Thank you winter
For refreshing my views
And my perspective.