• Since forever it has been this way...

    I am usually born inside this house, and renewed through an organized and repetitive cycle, like the cycle of day and night.

    Me and my siblings are born together, and stay so until it's the time for me to become a separate self .
    When that time comes, I always dress up in the image of origin, and I repeat my attendance every season without complaint.

    But it does not happen as easily and randomly as my words may illuminate it to be.
    Troubles are always present, and suffering is the tax I pay to live and achieve myself, and be renewed taking doses of pain along the way, putting up with the uncountable dangers that lie on my path.

    It happens, that the circumstances are hard, they are probably always hard, I saw my those of my kind as they were grounded under the teeth of some ugly rat, or disappear in the beak of a pretty bird, or faced with stubborn weather and soil circumstances, so they'd have returned to nothingness, faded.

    I am usually born with those of my kind tugged in, in my soft green cocoon, and I remain there under my sky which from this side of mine seems to be a shiny purple.
    So I lay down under this small sky surrendering to it's care, and I grow, then I feel great sympathy for it as it dries out, and cracks open eliminating itself so that this beautiful sky becomes a golden crust completing my decoration, preparing me for the promised day, the day of self-achievement and resurrection in the image of my forefathers (those of perfection and grace).

    I am like a little child that looks over his mothers shoulder, and cannot see the places and people except when for when I'm walking past them, or they're escaping me, so they soon become of the past, and I miss any chance of confrontation, challenge, and catching the living moment...That is how my relations with the world were like.
    My own sky a golden crust, pouring me a cozy warmth off the heat of the sun, as I move from a world I've come to know so well to a world I did not know existed.

    I look at the past with stubbornness and irony: I remember, a spot of soil, a drop of water going through a green transparent coat, a drop of dew, as they call it. I also remember a sting of cold, and a warm drop of milk.

    At some moment, all the images hidden in me gather up, and enlighten my imagination... Imagination is that station that creates immeasurable energies that give me confidence, so I can turn my gold sky into royal robes...Then I stand bragging about my maturity, and decorate my chest with necklaces, and my wrists with bracelets, and I put on earrings of green corundum on my ears, and wipe my eyes with the most precious shades...and the instant I put the crown of perfection on my head, I feel a strong heat around me, and a fire burning inside of me, so I slip off and fall from my kingdom, and knock the doors on earth, door after door, to escape this hell, and the guards of that earth welcome me with a great festival that they call "the harvest season". Guard, after guard, removing more and more of my make up, and my jewels.

    To be continued...