Resurrecting the hidden past is not a very nice experience for anyone, this will be a little reflection of many things that have made me be aware of many situations in our daily lives and not to fall down when something is out of order.
The Wisdom of the Untold Truth could be used as a metaphor, as something you can find the meaning only deep inside you when you hear it from other mouths... What can make you feel full of yourself until you can't take more and nothing could be wrong, there comes the hidden past, this other concept is always something that will most likely hurt, something you wouldn't expect, not at all. It's been almost a year since I discovered how wise is the untold truth when one does not know about its existence.
In what ways does this affect? Emotionally, mainly.
It's not bad, of course, to know this, but it's very hard to trust someone at times. If you trust someone and you ever resurrect the hidden past (in case it exists), you might feel A Fire Of Betrayal burning inside...
30 ene 2010
28 ene 2010
A Sudden Attack - Pars Tertia
Memories came to me, get out, calm down.
Yes, today is the day when the sudden attack came to me. Very much needed by now.
I see the light at the top of the pit coming closer, closer each time, I will be out of the pit very soon. A Sudden Attack in the right moment.
And, as the unwritten song sings...
Laughter was my ally.
In Saecula Saeculorum.
Yes, today is the day when the sudden attack came to me. Very much needed by now.
I see the light at the top of the pit coming closer, closer each time, I will be out of the pit very soon. A Sudden Attack in the right moment.
And, as the unwritten song sings...
Laughter was my ally.
In Saecula Saeculorum.
A Sudden Attack - Pars Secunda
Black morning, finished by now.
Silence was the biggest member.
II & III
No emotions.
Silence was the biggest member.
II & III
No emotions.
A Sudden Attack
On the first day, a change came out to its existence through my being, not entirely positive. Silence, indifference and sadness were a part of the day.
This is the story of an unfinished week.
On the first minutes, the problem was complicated, I was unable to understand. Of course I noticed the change, of course I saw the end of the end of the pit. I didn't belong there. I didn't belong there or anywhere.
Everything and nothing at the same time.
Grey evening, black night and black morning, I saw no improvement.
Like needles through my skin.
This is the story of an unfinished week.
On the first minutes, the problem was complicated, I was unable to understand. Of course I noticed the change, of course I saw the end of the end of the pit. I didn't belong there. I didn't belong there or anywhere.
Everything and nothing at the same time.
Grey evening, black night and black morning, I saw no improvement.
Like needles through my skin.
26 ene 2010
21 ene 2010
The Shore Of The End
If we started walking on a straight line with numbers in it, we'd never get to the end.
If we were just simple and sad sailors, we would swim on the shores of the end.
If we were just simple and sad sailors, we would swim on the shores of the end.
15 ene 2010
In My Free Minutes
In ten free minutes I could talk to you about today in the morning and today in the afternoon.
In nine free minutes I could talk to you about how good it made me feel to day listening to certain thing.
In eight free minutes I could write how much I expect from my writings in this blog.
In seven free minutes I could probably go and drink a glass of water.
In six free minutes I could pass a moment waiting and nothing more.
In five free minutes I could talk to one of my friends and seek for the advice I need.
In four free minutes I could read a page about Black Holes.
In three free minutes I could look for a nice song to play and enjoy.
In two free minutes I could decide whether to do it or not.
In one free minute I could express you my feelings of everything I just wrote.
Futile.
In nine free minutes I could talk to you about how good it made me feel to day listening to certain thing.
In eight free minutes I could write how much I expect from my writings in this blog.
In seven free minutes I could probably go and drink a glass of water.
In six free minutes I could pass a moment waiting and nothing more.
In five free minutes I could talk to one of my friends and seek for the advice I need.
In four free minutes I could read a page about Black Holes.
In three free minutes I could look for a nice song to play and enjoy.
In two free minutes I could decide whether to do it or not.
In one free minute I could express you my feelings of everything I just wrote.
Futile.
13 ene 2010
12 ene 2010
Crimson Skies
And there I was, laying on my bed without having full control over my body and unable to stop or quit. I felt despair running through me but I managed to control it as far as I could, I needed to have control.
The ghosts of the people I had seen before in total conciousness entered my room and left their belongings in the table that occupied the center of the room. But there was no table and there were no ghosts.
I listened and listened, time seemed to pass very slowly and I was getting tired of it. I stood up and moments after, cold water ran through my face.
I returned to my position and the ghosts were still walking in front of me and disappearing as soon as they left something on the table that was not really there. I knew this people. This people knew me. But they were not entering my room and this was all part of the dirty trick my mind was playing on me. I enjoyed each passing moment which seemed like eternity in front of my eyes with the only exception of being seconds passing and nothing more.
-Help- I whispered, -help... But nobody heard my call.
Scarlet, I thought, scarlet is the color of blood. My body kept moving on its own and my mind was floating around many things. I wanted it to end and at the same time I wanted to learn more from it. I was inside it. My journey lasted for a period of time that seemed like hours, time is a big mistery after all.
As I walked through the dark desert and the skies were crimson, the ghosts of the people that knew me kept entering and disappearing in my room.
Right in front of my eyes.
The ghosts of the people I had seen before in total conciousness entered my room and left their belongings in the table that occupied the center of the room. But there was no table and there were no ghosts.
I listened and listened, time seemed to pass very slowly and I was getting tired of it. I stood up and moments after, cold water ran through my face.
I returned to my position and the ghosts were still walking in front of me and disappearing as soon as they left something on the table that was not really there. I knew this people. This people knew me. But they were not entering my room and this was all part of the dirty trick my mind was playing on me. I enjoyed each passing moment which seemed like eternity in front of my eyes with the only exception of being seconds passing and nothing more.
-Help- I whispered, -help... But nobody heard my call.
Scarlet, I thought, scarlet is the color of blood. My body kept moving on its own and my mind was floating around many things. I wanted it to end and at the same time I wanted to learn more from it. I was inside it. My journey lasted for a period of time that seemed like hours, time is a big mistery after all.
As I walked through the dark desert and the skies were crimson, the ghosts of the people that knew me kept entering and disappearing in my room.
Right in front of my eyes.
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