2/9/12
Esa sensación apacigüadora.
Después de la tempestad viene la calma, y viene de una manera desoladora. Tus entrañas se vacían, quedando todo en blanco. Tus ojos ya no verán más allá de las cosas. Tus manos ya no sentiran más que el tacto rugoso de la miserable vida que te envuelve, no más maravillas percibirás mientras el rencor perdure en esta calma mencionada. Tus oídos no volverán a distinguir de entre una vibrante multitud el suave aletear de una mariposa justo antes de posarse sobre aquella flor amarilla. Nunca más saborearás un dulce amanecer como solías hacer. Has perdido. En las tempestades los dos bandos pierden, y eres consciente. Sólo deseas que la calma sea suficiente... ¿O es que para ti ya nada es suficiente?
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foolingroger
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It's never quite right, he said, the way people look,
the way the music sounds, the way the words are
written.
It's never quite right, he said, all the things we are
taught, all the loves we chase, all the deaths we
die, all the lives we live,
they are never quite right,
they are hardly close to right,
these lives we live
one after the other,
piled there as history,
the waste of the species,
the crushing of the light and the way,
it's not quite right,
it's hardly right at all
he said.
don't I know it? I
answered.
I walked away from the mirror.
it was morning, it was afternoon, it was
night
nothing changed
it was locked in place.
something flashed, something broke, something
remained.
I walked down the stairway and
into it.
-Charles Bukowski.
the way the music sounds, the way the words are
written.
It's never quite right, he said, all the things we are
taught, all the loves we chase, all the deaths we
die, all the lives we live,
they are never quite right,
they are hardly close to right,
these lives we live
one after the other,
piled there as history,
the waste of the species,
the crushing of the light and the way,
it's not quite right,
it's hardly right at all
he said.
don't I know it? I
answered.
I walked away from the mirror.
it was morning, it was afternoon, it was
night
nothing changed
it was locked in place.
something flashed, something broke, something
remained.
I walked down the stairway and
into it.
-Charles Bukowski.
La calma nos apacigua pero no quita la lluvia caída en nuestros párpados. Para quitarla solo podemos luchar contra la tempestad porque aunque parezca imposible siempre puede salir un arcoiris y secar las gotas.
ResponderEliminarPreciosa entrada.
Un beso
Ohh, un comentario que da esperanzas, de esos que te dejan con el corazon encojido y que dices: sí, tiene razón esta chica tan maravillosa.
EliminarGracias :)
Un besoo.