Crates
Puçol (València, Spain), May 2020 |
This time at home,
with its mirage of leisure,
is leading an unwilling me
to the hidden crates
which harbor my memories.
with its mirage of leisure,
is leading an unwilling me
to the hidden crates
which harbor my memories.
Rummaging around them
I came to see again
good things that were and went,
good things that made me grow,
just plain good things.
I came to see again
good things that were and went,
good things that made me grow,
just plain good things.
Diving to the bottom of them
I met again the person
who I was and am no more,
who I wished to be and could not,
who advanced to be who I am today.
I met again the person
who I was and am no more,
who I wished to be and could not,
who advanced to be who I am today.
Strolling through memories
I came to see again
bad things that were and went,
bad things that made me grow,
bad things in appearance
that faded into good ones.
I came to see again
bad things that were and went,
bad things that made me grow,
bad things in appearance
that faded into good ones.
In this pipedream of leisure
I found time to sort,
clean, release
the ballast of memories
to be able to go lightly
whenever my time comes.
I found time to sort,
clean, release
the ballast of memories
to be able to go lightly
whenever my time comes.
But until that very moment
I will keep looking, serenely,
the past into its absent eyes
and just embrace my ghosts
with my very best smile.
I will keep looking, serenely,
the past into its absent eyes
and just embrace my ghosts
with my very best smile.
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