Clams of Essene hearts
Listen to the voice of your echo, Maria, barely conceals the silence asleep of your eternal sleepless nights. Stressful insomnia breaks the sound of the clock of your time. Of your time and mine Watch, made of steel and aged silver, rings at the end of the corner. Walls of torched stone make up an adobe house. Adobe and silver reverie. Distant daydreams. Crossroads and paths. Lights of paths intersect in the serene mornings, and illuminate your fragile gaze. Scarlet flame look. Sketches of glitters. Shines of smiles drawn. They are desires, they are longings, in your sweet and pretty eyes. Fragrant roses are fresh, feral aromas. Aromas of incense and myrrh. Cinnamon aromas on branch. Cups of tea, mint and mint are smelled in the sunsets of your laughing life. Laughter in eternal childhood. Inexpressible and golden childhood, in Galilee. Innocence lost, in an endless human existence. Existence, half human, half divine.
You think while you breathe, you inhale while you claim. Claim justice, in every moment and brief silence of your life. There are no short deadlines, no minimum justice. Only, you hear brief cries. Clamores calling for voices, equal conditions. Clamor of a discontented people, under the yoke of suffering, waiting for the arrival of a liberating message.
Meditate in the silence asleep, in the garden of the forbidden lotuses. Meanwhile, others lose their eternal innocence. Lost and captive innocence.
In a utopian world, of transparencies and human frailty, like the broken paper of fine silk, your tanned hands tremble, aged by the burning sun. Hands shaken by the celestial winds. In the wind your gray hair, slightly wavy.
Fresh air, on the shore of the transoceanic sea, you breathe, on the fine white sand and broken into thin pieces of yellow sky. Meanwhile, your fragile, childish face caresses the ocean breeze in your eternal sleeplessness. Unveils of broken dreams, and ethereal insomnia. Insomnia of a mind, calm, smell of freshness, tender innate wisdom. Insomnia that breaks the lost times. Time of insomnia, times lost in captive sunsets. Times full of crosses and huge ravings. Insomnia that smells of madness and false forgetfulness. Times of labyrinths, of yellow skies. Yellow skies, transparent magic, ephemeral destinations. Times of solar swords, of tender sweetness, in northern lights. Northern lights, in ancestral times. Times of a strong Essene people, like the calm waters of a peaceful and inert river. Times of a suffering people, between shadows and lights, between fiery heavens. Times of lilies, roses and tuberose, of tender charms. Clear path times and golden dawns. Subtle sunrises, between flashes of steel and silver, that unite the lost times.
Sunrises that sow eternal love and white lilies muted. Clamors of Essene hearts, dreaming of pure hazards, and rivers of lava and blood. Sunrises of sneaky instants. And amid old cries, they awaken in the light of immortality, innocent captive loves. Times of tender loves, among sweet clamors of freedom, in the valley of Hinnom.
Copyright poetic prose and photography