I don’t remember the mornings
With the sun rising and the coffee brewing.
I start with thoughts of future
And a path of pitfalls
To elegantly avoid
And dress accordingly.
Now you can see me
And include me in your plans
Of succulent dinners and unreachable offices.
I will embrace your plan,
Obscure and personal,
Until we stand on a higher rock
And I will see what the horizon holds.
Like a blinded moth
I spin around in the middle air
Turning turning with no way to stop.
The excitement captured me
And I live the moment
With its silly giggles and ambitious prospects
For the future.
Everyday leads me on a treasure hunt
With hints hidden below a coffee cup
And inside an orange.
I zigzag absent-minded while other proceed
Bloody on their metallic rigid tracks.
Resting at last, with my constellation
of secret places And my hands full
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.
The setting is not yours
And the menu has no desert
In this meeting badly organized.
Time passes while you plan your escape
And laugh inside to the crazy adventures
At the limits of the universe our on familiar sunny beaches
you could be living
Instead of answering tasteless questions and listening distractedly.
Tell me your secret
To enjoy the moment
When the plan diverts and the reality is illogical.
The shivering is sudden
And search for an explanation instantaneous.
A million doors are open at the moment
And you feel your chance has finally arrived.
Hold my own while I tell you
That time passes and leaves a mark
Even if you are inactive.
Thinking on the chair or prey of boredom
Your thoughts rebel and imprint a stir
To the present inside you
Unconsciously prioritizing your future..
Trust me when I say
Tomorrow holds no final result.
The move you made today
will take you forward
Maybe a step maybe a mile
But the final is out of sight.
Today and tomorrow will merge
And your silent efforts will translate
In a stroke of brush
On a painting that will never reach
The final version.
You watch it from too close now,
You cannot create it alone,
But you will see it the day you dare to drift back.