Wednesday, July 06, 2005

The day

It’s funny how one sunny day can erase an eternity of storms and showering rain. The streets and sidewalks are shinning and there’s a new green on every plant calling for the warmth of a new spring. Behind the woolen scarves and heavy coats, that barely allow the sight of eyes and maybe a red shiny nose from time to time, there is a glimmer of hope in those who understand and know they just have to wait for the bad times to fade.
Sometimes, when I’m out, walking on the streets in this weather, I can’t help feeling this way. But there are ups and downs on the way, and it seems that any imperceptible detail can turn everything into clouds and shadows again. And then is that I realize that, although everything is shinning on the outside, the winter is still within me, drying up the few leaves that were still alive, freezing my ideas and drying off my joy, enlarging the doors so as to close them indefinitely, while the wind is blowing cold and strongly and roaring like a storm so as to remind me who’s the boss in here.
Sometimes, I think the restlessness of the night prevents me from enjoying those random moments during the morning and I lose myself in tangles of worries, trying to find solutions, definitions and conclusions. And the only thing that I conclude is the day itself, full of omissions, deferments and dead times in which nothing happened but implacable seconds. And the light dimmes. And the glimmer, all mighty glimmer, is now just an old memory.
Some chimney will still be smoking in September. Someone will write a name or a music note with his frozen breath like a surreal cloud in the morning. The grass will have its umpteenth time to resume its growth, beating the frost, ignoring defeat and the effort to do it, repeating its cycle under the influence of its instincts or by the power of BEING THERE rather than BEING ITSELF. Or is it that, instead of ignoring defeat, it avoids it? Or is it that, rather than avoid the effort, consciously ignores it? Or is it that we call instinct to all that our reason eagerly wants to leave outside its domains? Or should we just simply BE THERE rather than fruitlessly BEING?I don’t want to settle with just BEING THERE… I want to BE.
But that only happens every other sunny morning, just like a few minutes ago… right now, it’s getting cloudy again.

1 Dust to dust:

Blogger BELMAR said... gustó la plantilla claptoniana!

20 August, 2007 06:48  

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