Treasure Island

FLORIN NEDELCU


Reborn


Renaissance-
reborn or
metamorphoses...
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
Florin NEDELCU [ Flav ]
2004-08-16

suddenly
I decided to reborn...
from the greatness of humanity cold
i am leaveing now for later ...the space cold
I break the umbilical cord with the world

One sharp looking and
I'm thirsty...
the muse cup is flooding me
adding me to the loneliness desert
and I see myself projected
in the middle of one light ray
generated by moon
that breaks the silence of the one quiet lake
full of water lilies.

i am trying to learn walking upright on my feets
and i wake up with soles of waters
i am crushing in my haste... some girls kisses

i am looking for a willow that lean towards thoughts
i steal a branch... and i add it to my right hand
in an awkward flight
and because I have only one wing
I rotate myself in white spirals of time
until my sky it s becameing blue

and inclined rainbow
for so much love that i feel
for two forest green eyes
that have the Poetry color

i am keep going and get somewhere
back in time...
on a bank...hostage in remembering sand
on one beach where the sea is
kissing the shore over and over again
rejuvenateing old shore with each -wave
and where the seagulls are screaming their jealousy.-full of madness

i am leaveing behind me the mirage of the sea and my teenage
that is devored by the hungry time
and i begin to understand...
why are the trees bended of time
and why the vineyards are crying in the spring
the revelation of snow with silver shades
of my naive childhood
is replaced by the later revelations
that burdens the soul with light
and with the knowing quilt.

I try to do a few steps more...but my feets are
slowly swallowed by one fresh-hot asphalt
i deny the asphalt in favor of grass
- the lover that always is kissing diferent
any sole of any hurried traveler
now i deny the mammoths of glass and steel
because they blocking my every sunrise

I hardly see now on the horizont
all the stone statues
temples of the late senescence
aligned straight toward to the blue of gods

they are leaving me the nostalgy of one word
missing
missing to learn to die every day
in order to live beautyfully

Submitted: Monday, January 20, 2014

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