His gaze flies away beyond the edge her honeysuckle voice wakes me up caress of her braids swell in the binder of shadow a few wisps of mist.
Hölderlin retraces his steps a jacket with large basques dressed slicked back wig climbing the steps the heels of his boots slam on the slab.
Hands reach out under the shadow of charms come the city kids gambadant s'esclaffant bank to bank to angel's leap.
Frank cavalcade iron and fire mixed under a stormy sky advances the scepter of arrogance apparent phlegm of our separation.
Escaped by the corridor reflecting the sleeping basins the leprechauns of oblivionstep over the fence large sloping space to the memory tree of our youth games.
Morning all is said from the alphabet of contritions with obsolete remonstrances going up the back alley we will touch lady.
I will enter united towards her through words slowly fleur de sel on the corners in love healing.
To have in the drawers tears and moire as we go au carmel unfolded prayers by the offer of abundance where the Erinyes dance là-bas au Golgotha has more than one trick up its sleeve the arpeggio guy snow and crushed bricks science or wisdom equal capacity laugh out loud walk on snow step over the eagle's nest twirling feather visionary towards the plank bridge at the post surrounded by rushes le sphinx line mandolin same moon at the bottom of the mine to roll the wagons at the fingers of seamstress fairies.
Mantle on the steppe dust in ruts the tracks rattle like prayers in gusts of wind without turning around forgotten by the sun the cloud rovers on the leather of absolute walkers the sign of love of nights, faired siphon vortex angels abound in these mission countries in the vestibule the flights of hands raise the wick at the forefront of incantations as beads of sweat reflecting load-bearing walls from the city of steel of the confined with pitted walls by the desert sand squared vertebrae old order before last night.
With a few straws at your feet Miss World came out of the favela out of the caudine forks to generate a song.
Of my body blooming joy at the coat hooks of the entrance a badly learned backlog goose feather happiness without looking back sipping the quarter of an hour permanent clouds of happiness in sympathy little men with big brown bags on their backs climbing the slope the pages of my age are turning from sparrow to crow fits the scaffolding of things of the mind under the veranda a puppet slumped on the sofa the amber colored hat swaying to the rhythm of children's cries in the distance the morning mists tear apart the cat meows.
Barefoot in the dust of the path we were able to join them companions of famine near the iron cross. The house was there white at the end of the village at the edge of the Lande. Up there in the light stole minds under the archer of the violins. spring buds slammed open artist's finger rhythm. Our porcelain eyes blushed as the cloud advances. Voices were raised vibrating with clear notes under the shining yoke absolute hours. Together generations passed dressed in long white dresses. I recognized grandfather Victor and his stick the poet's carnation between the teeth grandmother Marie and her vivacity then godmother Fernande pinch-mi pinch me. The bells were ringing the cloud opened and saw dawn blue egg felibrige. My soul my unique childhood you thrive in the eternal crowd my brothers and sisters gathered in the drape of peregrinations in the middle world where is born and dies the great relief. This Monday there were people at the fairground of dung and blue beetles under the hardened berets the cigarette at the corner of the lips to discuss to clap their hands bargain. 568
love This essential feeling the feeling that gives meaning the feeling that gives meaning. love is opening he is the gladiator of the universe its arena is the face-to-face with the event and the sand of the arena, the sweat of our efforts. Love frolics in the grasslands of freedom he goes through here, he will pass by the day winks at him from all eternity and the night flock of sparrows on a spree. If he opens his jacket it's not to sell your heart it is not tenderness that he drinks it is to offer its breast to the wandering soul. He is not the master of the keys as long as we beg him to help He's there, Without haste, without reason, the placid worker of the Spirit. He just needs us that our gaze turns to see to the bottom of our suffering the melodious dawn of self-confidence. Its place is everywhere in all the cottages near the hearth in winter near cherry blossoms in spring. Its real name is SOUL FOR ALL and around the speakers surrounding it so many initiations to cross in the silence of abandonment. Love of the lustral waters I hail you on my journey to recover the lost steps of childhood under the cover of the tall trees of the Allagnat alley. May love stripped of its tinsel be the tooth, the cutlass, the sword of justice at the service of our nuptials with the Most High in the fractal mirror of our quest. 567
I'm nobody's tiger I haunt the thickets of the imaginary i can be the totem animal. I burst in without warning i am the tiger I'm on the lookout for your every move. I am nothing just the day that dawns nothing but a look from mars at the window. I am the father i am the son I am the shadow of myself. " But how does it relate to reality? ? " reflect good people people of the cutting edge of the soul. I am the rainbow that diffracts and connects I am the pure crystal with a thousand facets. Like you by the way and if it brings you whatever. Don't let the meaning slip away between the fingers of the brave order cleaners. Let's be in cahoots with the little one with perfection. I do not accompany i am the movement and you are the movement. You and me are the same our apparent separation is only irony our unit is full. the tiger is not suffering he is gushing surprise he is liberating joy. And if some link bribes him its bite shuts out evil spirits in Schrödinger's cat cage. 566
At the crossroads of the branches i saw the black and white cat dark with his animal illusions magically anchored in his instinct white with its lightness acquired in its aerial jousting.
Game over to scrap in white and black heart and lung find refuge on the crown rouge sang battle with the angel.
In the morning everything seemed calm between the fingers of the rising sun j'aimai from story to story genealogical transmission.
sewing roots against mother earth shine on sundays to turn around white gloved hands in confirmation of the path.
Good-natured children connect and tell each other to the unique laughter of passing time to wind up the cuckoo clock I salute you kneeling, head down, open arms You take it all the repository of dreams and sorrows to no longer vibrate the tuning fork of sadness to be only you for me to live.
carried by the waters entre colombe et corbeau à la tombée d'un jour de mars l'homme d'airain obligea les forces recluses à se manifester d'une énergie renouvelée.
Que nous sommes des êtres de panique à danser avec insouciance dans les prés fleuris au son du tambourin à ramasser les petits cailloux pour un retour inopiné à la maison.
Que tous gravèrent sur le bois de la coque quelques signes propitiatoires interrogeant le Très Mystérieux de nous donner foi et courage devant l'épreuve.
Maître, ôtez de notre vie la déraison de nos propos l'aveuglement de nos pulsions le suivisme de notre couardise le sommeil de notre cœur.
Joignons la colombe et le corbeau pour davantage de connaissances dans le respect des autres en accomplissement de notre mission et que chaque jour soit le seul Jour.
