Free spirit of the human soul «The rose of the desert» by Maika Etxarri

Free spirit of the human soul

Cu-Cu sang the frog on the golden shores of the inner halls in its ravenous mind. And you lamented that false empty reality. That reality hindered by the guardian of excessive vanity, devoid of human humility. And those hidden feelings, of hatred and deception, frightened your free and privileged nature… They were false prophets who made vain promises. Lacking feelings, they believed themselves gods of Olympus. But their exalted, dark and treacherous heart was incompatible with true love. They adored huge clay idols, statues and atheistic figures, enriched by their excessive desire. Greed and wealth together, set in a silver thread. And they drowned their sad and painful existences. And their throats fell silent with your divine words: Dignity of my soul and your soul. Free spirit of the human soul…
You denounced their grave error in front of the “Celestial Universe Tribunal”, but nobody gave credit to your sweet words, full of contained feelings and emotions. They were poisoned serpents, devourers of human tragedies. Tragedies of blind ambition and excessive fame. They were born as angels fallen from heaven who longed for immortality. But they´ll never be able to feel like you or shed smiles to life. They´ll only glimpse, by far, a false reality promised. Reality that they won´t be able to perceive, nor to live, in their most internal forum. An empty world, lacking and devoid of love. A world, with hardly any freedom, will be their immortal shelter, throughout the centuries. Fallen angels without a name, without a soul, who made of their labors mischief and excesses, betrayals in the old way. They created wars and conflicts to achieve power, but lost their precious dignity. They lost their dignity and will to leave you wounded, bruised, felt with their cruel claws. With their sharp claws, daggers and needles of white thorns. And with your soul torn, full of scars and bruises, you crossed the border of the seas of their abyss…
You touched, at last, the port of supreme liberation, and of their oblivion. Their indifferent oblivion discovered their imperfect mask. Their mask hidden, their innermost shell. A breastplate shelter of vain envy, and vain existential realities…
And their fierce roars frightened your conscience. Your conscience slow, exhausted, inexorable in the eyes of the sleeping enemy. You´ll fear finding them free from their jails, located in the infernal abyss. But they´ll never be able to prevent you from writing, with ink of blood, your true truth…
Sniyt, truth of the free spirit of the human soul. Dignity of my soul and your soul. Truth that reflects your pain and your feeling, true that impacts the hearts of the red eagles. Sniyt, true of the son of the sun and the moon…
In the name of Satyam the heavens will thunder like roars of lions, when their dark souls will throw fire for their poisoned tongues, poisoned by rancor and the most hidden envy. They´ll believe they´re masters of your life and thoughts. And you´ll have courage to ignore your treacherous ambition. Their treacherous ambition and sins without compassion. In the end, they´ll give you pity, because it isn´t worth the trouble to be so vile.
Your magical reward, to the effort, will be your recognition in front of Gabriel, archangel of light. He´ll encourage your conscience to continue relating, eternally, experiences of love and supreme happiness…
Free spirit of the human soul. Dignity of my soul and your soul, eternally, at the dawn of the rising sun, from East to West…
Freedom without borders. Poetic, ideological freedom. Freedom without chains. Horiya, freedom to feel and love. Freedom to dream of a possible world, not utopian. Horiya, freedom to imagine, to build a real dream. Sweet orange blossom dreams in your sweet immortality. Hypnotic dreams of white butterflies, libertarian, in the limits of the supreme and true pragmatic reality. Dreams of free spirits, without broken wings, flying with the rising winds of the East. Souls of free spirits flying towards the Sea of Galilee, without thorns of white roses. Flying from Tibet to Egypt, from Egypt to India, from India to the desert of Judea. Broken flowers of muted lilies, silenced by your divine words. Divine words of sweet human immortality: peace, gratitude and truth. Divine words of the heart flying over the Sea of Galilee. Immortal free spirits, souls of pure hearts, flying over the universal collective consciousness. Reincarnated spirits of love travel to the Holy City, of your soul and my soul…

Maika Etxarri
Copyright poetry and photography