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.
You tell me to move on
Not to ruin the image of your reality.
I will step out
But my opinions are sacred,
Laid in a basket inside me,
And they will be written if not told.
Reality passes quietly and silent
and I needed time to give a name
to all the happenings.
I hate labels but they give the right words
to tell the story
I do not want to forget.
The thought of the big leap
Had been tormenting me
In the day and under the stars.
Its weight was growing
and my shoulders becoming tired.
The weight has been lift
By spontaneity and surprise.
When the leap is meant to be yours
You know the right words
At any time.
Rites of passage are laid on the way,
Open arches with no doors
Mark the distance from the first steps
And from the first fears.
Each is a no way back station
Of tears and rewards
That only standing alone
Can hug you completely.