He tasted of gasoline
and she was willing to burn for this so called love
as brightly and radiant as the morning sun.
She kept the flames
underneath her skin,
and if he were not the one to ignite the fire in the first place,
he would burn his fingers.
living on the edge of reality,
sacrificing their souls for the beauty of burning hearts;
and to this day,
no storm has diminished their flames.
To this day,
they do not regret loving until they burst.
“Rising sun above the deep blue and calm ocean,
burning clouds above the sleeping city.
The city is still sleeping
but the world is wide awake.”
I wrote this while sitting at the beach of Barcelona, inbetween five and six o’clock in the morning, in late July last year. My notebook was resting upon my thighs, my pen clutched against my fingers and my eyes stared blankely. It was a tremendously sad period of my young life, and that very moment, which I tried to capture with a photograph, made my heart weight less than a feather. I felt free, as if I was starting to understand a new way of living.
I restarted the poem above several times, I crossed out words, made new sentences, but nothing came close to what was happening in front of my eyes. The mixture of those vivid colours and reflections on both the ocean and the clouds were magical. The massive bulidings against the soft and calm water were dancing together, I relished that moment, as I was extremely happy of having found purpose.
The city was still sleeping. Selfish as I am, it made me think of myself. It made me understand that the absence of happiness in my life does not mean that it isn’t there, that it is non existing. Maybe I was just asleep, sadness being my cussion. Maybe I was asleep at the wrong time, in the wrong place. You see, things will pass. And happiness will always be around, somewhere, at some time.
What a wonderful morning it was, and how much it has affected my days. But still, words will never be enough.