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Excerpt for Thoughts by , available in its entirety at Smashwords















THOUGHTS


Copyright 1994 Jordana Blasco

Published by Jordana Blasco at Smashwords




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I


All or nothing… Choose now or falter later.

All is the vastness that surrounds you.

Nothing is the loss of all.

Search in the middle of your thoughts. At short or long path towards the left of the human knowledge. That will be the perfect place and then… you will choose.

But… now... Up or down.

Up towards the insurmountable limits of pain.

Down towards the intangible cold of dullness.

I’ll stay half way.

Temperate and invisible winds that cover non-existent places. That will be a more perfect place…

Look for me.

You’ll find me.

There, where all is nothing and vice-versa.


II


After the storm, quietness …

After thinking, peace …

After everything else, the rest…

After me, you…

After all…

After all an answer for you.


III


Winding paths that move away through the mist of unreality.

Solid walls strewn among ignorant beings of the world.

Only you lie in the centre of the soul that has the Gift.

Only you are able to lift fallen walls and find paths in the darkness.

When you wander through the sleepless stretch of unreality, think of me… I’ll be waiting for you somewhere to see the frozen centre of solitude. A place where everyone is together and where nobody knows where is everyone else. The centre of a burning city within the entrails of the “will be”.

The skin is cracking, but they do not feel the pain; they are insensitive to everything that exists inside…

Their veins expand, steel flow among their bones and the cold iceberg roars inside in silence.

Piercing wounds penetrate vertebrae that they don’t need and, some, yearn for the revenge that has not arrived.

Pull the colour of the world you walk through and you will make it better to slide down the mirrors of your image.

Look at yourself, cold and purple, feel, once again, the horror of the non-commanding voice.

Exit through where only one comes in.

A pleasant sound guides me through the distant crowd.

A sudden light switch on a spark in my head.

Your world is very far away, the same as theirs, and each world separates even more without caring where they will end up.

But he has the Knowledge and stops to observe their indescribable manners of people… People? Let them be!

… The path narrows and falls to the infinite… There will be somewhere…

You are in the centre of the souls that “waste” their time thinking… because you rise rivers and you climb mountains and you flow oasis where there is no water… with your imagination; and I follow you with my thoughts, among the fast wings of the wind.


IV


There’s something else.

I’m not sure exactly what it is, but I try to find out.

I can see things that escape others.

In the green and colourful paths, I always find the answers.

Blue rays shine through the glade and I can touch them.

I hear the constant sigh of his words bouncing on the ground… and it is his reflection… only his reflection, what brings clarity to me.

Jelly frogs jump from place to place and watch me carefully.

Branches swing back and forth trying to communicate with me.

They know my reactions as they know the path that takes them to their lives.

They truly know what they want and, what they do not have, they do not try to find it.

But in the night…

Among the golden darkness…

My thoughts glow, perhaps lost, or certainly hidden…

Everything belongs to itself… It’s strange… I cannot find a way to stop the river. Its stones move with the current and salmons fight against it to reach their place of origin.

Maybe the cake is tasty and all the colourful cherries melt in my mouth…

But it is the humidity of the dark soil which marks my steps, which dry them and always make them visible to my eyes.

I have time to ponder.

True ideas flow from my mind in an orderly manner. To others, they make no sense… Apparently…

It is the warm sweetness of hot chocolate.

The steamboat travels happily cutting the waters with its sharp keel…

Wild berries burst between my fingers and tint them permanently.

His name is everywhere I look.

On the sky, the clouds signal the arrival of the tempest.

Firmly, I continue to make my way.

Caves offer a temporary shelter…

Fire is very mobile, unpredictable, striking and unstable…

Squirrels eat acorns on top of the trees, and, nervous, they do not stop to even look at me.

I can see my own memories through the crystal waters, distant from History.

The features of his face are more defined.

I know the person who is dragging me among ferns and evergreen leaves.

It is the wind turned into a hurricane.

It is a cyclone that wants to devastate everything.

It is you or, maybe, I.

Among the screaming crowd, among the beings of the world, among the thick of the city, only one will shine with its own light… Only one… or two… under the shade of a willow tree, there… (there is your heart):

The crystal is lost.

It will always be searched for.

But it will never be found,

If your love is gone.


V


It was a storm.

It was a gale.

It shook my ideas.

I could not think.

It was a green forest. Quiet.

With no noises.

Ferns. Massive leaves…


Once, there was a sky.

Once, there was an earth.

Once… Once…

An empty feeling.

A muffled dream.


Follow the path that takes you nowhere.

I had an idea.

I had an odd thought.

I wanted what I did not have… I have what I wanted. What I had, I do not have any more. What I wanted, I do not want any more. Now… Now I’m just looking for… I’m just looking for a feeling.

You cannot have it. You cannot buy it. You cannot want it. You cannot wait for it. You cannot look for it. It cannot be found as it is born and grown in the deep of earth.

It appears all of a sudden, with no questions or answers.


VI


The smile that looks at you,

The paleness of your skin,

The way you expressed yourself,

The way I found you.


Such a glowing look,

Such warmth on you.

On the cutting edge,

I found you there.


A shiny star.

Your eyes, perhaps.

The Northern Hemisphere,

My soul lived there.

A flaming volcano,

Black eyes… I see.

And a beating heart.

And the lava starts to burn.


The moon. The immense moon.

Such is your Knowledge.

But you always fall downwards.

There, I cannot see you.


VII


But one day… One day…

The words get blurred by the fallen tears.

They feed the earth and life sprouts again.

It is difficult to understand that you will get beauty for ashes.

Sadness is a feeling that, if you want to, you can turn it into happiness.


VII


I think… What I see is a mystery to me. Alternate events happen and I cannot stop them.

I would like to be free… Free from my own chains. Break with my ideas; the very same ideas which tie me to myself, ideas that do not allow me to be me.

Roses grow beautiful and radiant with a subtle touch of a gentle rosy complexion.

Proud, they offer their charm to the world. I see them swing gracefully on the ice-cold air that shakes them.

They are also tied to their freedom. They depend on what keeps them alive.

The stars shine vigorously. The night will fall over us on a few hours… Maybe less… and they will gleam… They will show their own strength, their defined and striking shape.

I will be here, as usual, trying to catch the idea of reality or reality itself.

Maybe, behind me, I’ll find myself.


IX


I feel like I’m suffocating.

My lungs contract and don’t let me breathe.

There is a knot in my throat that is not helping me either.

I have the feeling that I’m locked in a box without holes and from which I cannot escape.

I suffocate.

I cannot breathe.

Life is strange.

It seems wide, colourful and nice… like a summer’s day on a deserted beach where the blue sky and no clouds go together with the squawking of the seagulls and the murmur of the waves.

But there is something that pressures me.

My chest hurts.

I cannot feel it beating.

This box is very small… very dark… there is nobody else in here.

I cannot stretch my arms… It compresses me. I’d like to scream…; but nobody could hear me.

My world is very tight and nobody, nobody, can get in.

All promises have passed by. Nobody is going to remember them.

They just stay with me.

They will always be.

I keep them in this small, hidden box waiting for the day when he comes back to rescue them. He must never forget that they exist, that I have them here and he must deliver.

Meanwhile, I hold my breath for them. I do not breathe, I suffocate, I press my lungs…

It’s all a waiting game… Wait, wait, wait…


X


What can you say to a tired soul?

What can you say that could change it?

Despair follows tiredness

And take us to a river without beginning or end.


I have not written for so long

That I do not know what to think.

My ideas turn into dark clouds

Which do not allow them to flow.


I think of my loving mother.

I think of a hurricane.

I’d like miracles to be true.

I’d like to see her walk again.

Lazarus saw the birds

And who couldn’t, now could walk.

Fishes got multiplied

And the wine started to flow.


He walked on the waters

And gave peace of mind to crowds.

I pray to Him for my mother

And a miracle on her side.


XI


You, the only one for me. The only one that makes me live.

You, my beginning and my end. My feeling to feel…

You, who cares for me. Who makes me fly…

You, only you… and nobody else.

The reason I’m still here looking forth…

You, the light that guides me through the truth towards the shinning beam of love…

You…

You…

It is so hard to forget you…

You, silver water in the immensity.


XII


I’d like to see in his eyes the gleam of longing. The dull shine that shouts in silence for an answer. Your eyes that hope that my mind pierces them, knowing that its shine is the reflection of a far away lake where, one day, a long time ago, the muffled answer was inscribed on the deep of its waters.

The longing of passed times submerged on the growing darkness of a thought that is opening to the dusk.

I do not know what we lost. Maybe, among cotton-like clouds, melted by the sun, we’ll find what we are searching for.

When we cross our minds… memories emerge. Your thoughts belong to me and my actions are yours.

I think you know it. Believe me when I say it is oblivion.

Birds will bring drops on their feathers where our forgotten lives will be reflected, lost long ago.

Wait for the whistle of the wind and the rumour of the waves to tell you what I’m thinking of.

Listen to the Elements.

Before, at dawn, next to the green water lilies, you used to spend hours thinking about what I would be doing, there, under that perennial tree, with my eyes fixed on the sky.

The incontinent wall that surrounded us would not allow our eyes to meet, that is why, now, we know that your words, in silence, slide on the water and through the airwaves, your thoughts reach me.

The heart has stopped;

I have nobody,

Neither lover nor friend.

It is like an iceberg

Where all that it contained, has left.


XIV


It flies in my mind like a pale-yellow butterfly.

It flies among the trees and the flowers… but in my mind is still, static… Its wings do not produce any noises and the slight air they make, cannot be felt on my skin.

Unswerving eyes look at it and with paralysed hands try to catch it.


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