Pain dresses elegantly.
In his right hand
he holds a bright pin
with which his pops
bubbles of hope
until nothing is left.
Pain dresses elegantly.
He leaves nothing but an elegant emptiness
for the soul to walk through.
Elegance without the luxury of faith
is the only parachute
for this free fall.
Pain dresses elegantly.
In his left hand he carries
the simple cross of the Truth.
Pain dresses elegantly.
It is the pain of the Truth
walking through this place
filled with silver plated bubbles,
candid bubbles that explode
with a final gleam
a gleam of farewell tears.
Pain dresses elegantly.
Hope, my old friend,
goodbye, goodbye, goodbye.
--Lorena Lobita Wolfman © 2009-2010
Esta representación del dolor, finito, identificable, apuntable con el dedo y sin embargo inamovible. Como una fina viuda, deambulando por la vida.
ResponderEliminarAsí se contrapone a la melancolía infinita, capaz de tender su manto gris sobre prácticamente todo.
Dolor alojado en el pecho. Dolor metafísico. Melancolía extendida sobre lo exterior. Melancolía en lo otro.
hi there, you have a wonderful blog. thanks for sharing your life and experience here. hope you never give up doing that.
ResponderEliminarHello my old friend. This is Richelle...surely you will remember me. So many times I have thought of you over the years. So good to find you here. How have you been? What dreams have you followed? I hope that we might get to know each other once again.
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