Here You Are Standing Now, and Signs Point to You
Here you are standing now, and on the road are signs pointing to you. In the glimmer of stars are visions of a rendezvous and passion, for this is the moment of your awakening… so do not let the shadows surround you with their walls.
I do not think you stagger under the weight of a memory now being stripped of its innocence, nor that you suffer alone as if no words remain within you to confess what fills your heart of passion and love.
Be careful, do not let your memories travel without a path, and leave your shattered glass behind. Your life was never an illusion where wakefulness never stirs, nor were you ever desert grass tossed by the wind wherever it willed. Storms have passed through you and you scorned them, with mockery at times and with steadfastness many other times. You did not conceal your fear, nor did you delude yourself about the days’ yearning. Your glass was never estranged from your lips, which pulsed with the pleasures of love, infatuation, and dreams.
Awaken. Here she sends her sign to you: a rose sending you its fragrance to refresh your soul and your memory. There is no longer time or chance to bury eyes in the darkness of silence, for the winds blow with rain, so do not lock the balconies of your soul against its mist. Do not place your time in a sealed room, but let the wind grant it the call of life. Who granted your heart frailty? Who inspired in your eyes the desolation of silence? Who distanced the paths from you, when time itself addressed you with silence?
O you who stand in your silence… you have pillowed your head on silence and the place has vanished. You have sealed your lips and the call has disappeared. So in this moment of yours, prepare your mouth and the echoes. Reach out your hands, for here she is, drawing near to you, extending her hand, her eyes, her soul, and her words. Extend your soul to her and go forth, for in love there is a whisper. Let your voice reach her, for your voice grants your soul radiance. As the Andalusian Ibn Hazm said before you: love is a connection between divided souls. So let your soul touch hers, stretch out your arms, and let your lips taste the sweetest drink from her lips, burning with the redness of cherries and the blaze of embers.
Here you are, having lifted from your shoulders the weight of years of silence, releasing your voice again, hearing the echo, savouring the seconds of life. Did I not tell you there is no longer time in life for a distant age?
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