Mauro Montacchiesi

OF EVER-LIVING MEMORIES

Time runs
runs fast
and the seconds
brushes of the time
caress, etch, paint,
the arcana of the sky.
They build a highway
interminable
without tollbooths
without exits.
On my skin, they inlay
the emotions
that wail 
still must.
Immortal will be
the instants just lived
the love once lived.
The mind alights
on a heap of poems
on thoughts that 
still has to dissect
and then soars
toward a cosmic hourglass
and asks it
how many days
how many swallow flights
remain to it
to the mind.
Your eyes
in the lake of memories
are an anachronistic spell
are the emotion that sways
on the billows of lost time
are the soft stillness
of life's cynical breeze
are the miracle
of an acorn
that oak becomes.
A hiss, I sense
on the cold heights of night.
An arcane delicacy
makes its way into the heart
it sings a feeble psalm
among the stalactites of the soul.
A mute poem penetrates
among the darkness
of my labyrinth.
In my heart
beat legacies of erratic peoples
and I run away
from an unholy Fate
simulacrum
of ever-living memories.
It is late autumn
the north wind
icy
tears all the leaves
and with them
away drags
every gasp of love.
The soul goes astray
drowns
in the lake devoid of poems
in the lake of the past
and resurrects the pain.
Melancholy makes its way
dark
that caresses my thoughts
like a breeze
of a May to come
and sketches
unthinkable
the afflatus of the time.
And I let myself be enraptured
by the wings of a distracted chimera
that hovers
among the contours of a night
now bright
now opaque.
Yet life
shudders within me
my heart has gone mad
my soul longs for the sky.
Life is Love
Life is joy
Life is pain
Life is.

All rights belong to its author. It was published on e-Stories.org by demand of Mauro Montacchiesi.
Published on e-Stories.org on 27.07.2013.

 
 

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