The clearing's vibrant, or rather, it seems so because of the wind. The fresh green grass sways gently, the sky a perfect blue, the sun wonderfully bright. I feel connected to something larger, greater, and then your thumb caresses the inside of my hand and I am reminded of my connection to you. I sigh, smile.
Clouds drift overhead, gentle, soft and slow.
I have lost my illusions, and I feel so peaceful now...
The wind brings with it the scent of earth, and I am in love with you and summer all over again.
I've got you, under my skin.
Read More
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Off the Rail
Something's missing, I think. Like salt, not necessary - but then again, it is.
The violins remind me that I am leaving, but I'm still here, and there are still countless hours, days and nights until August. Or so I like to think.
I've said this before, I think I had read it somewhere, or maybe I made it up:
The world begins, inevitable, towering and full of possibilities.
I'm off the rails now, running through an eternal meadow that sleeps in shades of gray. It begins to rain, or maybe it had been raining this entire time.
All I know is that I am free, and almost exactly at the place I want to be.
Ahh....
What is missing? Read More
The violins remind me that I am leaving, but I'm still here, and there are still countless hours, days and nights until August. Or so I like to think.
I've said this before, I think I had read it somewhere, or maybe I made it up:
The world begins, inevitable, towering and full of possibilities.
I'm off the rails now, running through an eternal meadow that sleeps in shades of gray. It begins to rain, or maybe it had been raining this entire time.
All I know is that I am free, and almost exactly at the place I want to be.
Ahh....
What is missing? Read More
Track 13
Like the nameless song stuck in my head, I float. It's an emergency response, an automated reaction to the extreme presence and proximity of reality. How quick life works, and how surprisingly great it can be...
Somedays I am certain that there exists a tapestry of meaning so simple that it is beyond my comprehension. Like the note Mi, my favorite note, simple in its existence and fundamental in the grand scheme of things. It starts the rain, starts the sunrise. In the Hitchiker's Guide to the Galaxy, the meaning of the universe is 42. In the Matrix, it is given in a dialogue between a boy and Neo when the boy says: There is no spoon.
Simple, really. In a way that I can see sometimes, but it is difficult to grasp, like an image seen when one does not look at the painting itself.
Here's to not looking at the paintings, smiling, and enjoying life in all its simplicity. Here's to surprises, to cinnamon and to the note Mi. Read More
Somedays I am certain that there exists a tapestry of meaning so simple that it is beyond my comprehension. Like the note Mi, my favorite note, simple in its existence and fundamental in the grand scheme of things. It starts the rain, starts the sunrise. In the Hitchiker's Guide to the Galaxy, the meaning of the universe is 42. In the Matrix, it is given in a dialogue between a boy and Neo when the boy says: There is no spoon.
Simple, really. In a way that I can see sometimes, but it is difficult to grasp, like an image seen when one does not look at the painting itself.
Here's to not looking at the paintings, smiling, and enjoying life in all its simplicity. Here's to surprises, to cinnamon and to the note Mi. Read More
Last this day
I feel it in the back of my neck, this empty feeling of dread. It spreads slowly, coursing in my veins and I tremble with the knowledge of what is about to come.
It ends, not with a bang, but with a whimper.
How meaningful that quote is now, and how bitterly true. The sun's last rays hit us, and the shoreline is visible against the twilight. The mixture of purple and orange is brilliant, but I fail to appreciate the beauty of the sky as tears blur my vision. We're so very silent now, as the boat rocks back and forth. The sound of waves fill my ears, their splashes distracting but reality is there, in the salty taste of tears that stream down my cheeks.
For a bizarre moment, I am purely convinced that if we never make it ashore, if we halt the boat here, we won't end.
Then the sun finally sets, and sitting in the dark hue cast upon the wooden deck, I know it has ended, ended before I could blink. Read More
It ends, not with a bang, but with a whimper.
How meaningful that quote is now, and how bitterly true. The sun's last rays hit us, and the shoreline is visible against the twilight. The mixture of purple and orange is brilliant, but I fail to appreciate the beauty of the sky as tears blur my vision. We're so very silent now, as the boat rocks back and forth. The sound of waves fill my ears, their splashes distracting but reality is there, in the salty taste of tears that stream down my cheeks.
For a bizarre moment, I am purely convinced that if we never make it ashore, if we halt the boat here, we won't end.
Then the sun finally sets, and sitting in the dark hue cast upon the wooden deck, I know it has ended, ended before I could blink. Read More
Take Me Into Your Skin
It's wonderful, the way the lights dim and turn up as the beats fade in and out. I find the synchronicity soothing. As the velvet curtains sway past my shoulders - and as I walk past them - the tune takes on a new turn, a dry electronic hum that reminds me of almonds. The salty burnt taste is simulated on my tongue as the vibrations become steadier, like seconds, only with longer intervals.
The darkness is comforting and my eyes are not searching for you, not darting from face to face in an attempt to find an anchor in this new, different place.
I am strangely at peace.
As if by cue, a hand - your hand - grasps mine in a strong yet casual manner.
Our fingers intertwine while I turn to face you, and I see your eyes, glittering as the lights softly glow into and out of existence in hidden niches.
Why am I feeling so good?
*
I drift to sleep next to you, our skins touching the way our hands were - comfortably.
I lick my lips, feeling the cracks on it, and the hint of salt.
I drift to sleep, listening to the distant thunder and the rain.
I drift to sleep while you take me into your skin. Read More
The darkness is comforting and my eyes are not searching for you, not darting from face to face in an attempt to find an anchor in this new, different place.
I am strangely at peace.
As if by cue, a hand - your hand - grasps mine in a strong yet casual manner.
Our fingers intertwine while I turn to face you, and I see your eyes, glittering as the lights softly glow into and out of existence in hidden niches.
Why am I feeling so good?
*
I drift to sleep next to you, our skins touching the way our hands were - comfortably.
I lick my lips, feeling the cracks on it, and the hint of salt.
I drift to sleep, listening to the distant thunder and the rain.
I drift to sleep while you take me into your skin. Read More
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About Me
- Skyfall
- Full of life, colorful, happy - always, always happy. His life is a dance floor, music flows in him, through him, he never gets tired of dancing, of laughing, talking, creating and thinking. He is flamboyant and audacious, and content at being so. He lives to enjoy the color spectrum in all its great impossibility.