Just like interlacing old threads, moving from one moment to the next,
the absurdity of our lives woven into the normality of a child’s dreams.
Not rushed but short-lived, the day goes by with the wind,
with the hours,
with the errands,
and playing roulette with emotions.
I stall and stare back at my reflection, imagining what the next airflow will bring.
Perhaps a few degrees higher, dust in my eyes, ripped leaves,
perhaps a melancholic breeze.
A cheery flash, a burst of enthusiasm, a displacement.
Spring has brought carmine tulips to the neighborhood corners,
as an attempt to color the day with something new.
But all I see are the bold black strokes that draw the sidewalks,
the rough asphalt carrying heavy air.
If only somebody could answer me:
is there anything more beautiful than splendid turmoil?
Life is always,
Thought provoking and well written
The flower imagery is great and expresses the turmoil and symbol of nature amidst the urban decay
Keep up the good work – you are a very gifted and expressive artist
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