A lyrical bridge between past, present and future , David Whyte

Jardim Prometido , Cesaria Evora

Manuel Freire , pedra filosofal , Pedro Barroso , menina dos olhos d´água

Mongo Santamaria , Afro Blue

Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky ,Piano Concerto No. 1 , B minor

to cry alone, diary note

to cry alone is a bit like masturbation or a quickie with a foreigner,
short relief, a fast release,
leaving emptiness. i cannot cry easily anymore alone.
i wish i could cry in embrace, in silent warmth,
opening my pain. i wish i could cry all the uncried tears
and flood the dry bed of a river, let them flow to the sea.
i wish i could. i wish i could be allowed.
i wish i could untie all the knots in me, open the traps,
let control disappear in trust and all fight dissolve in warmth.
i wish all war could end.
not only mine, i wish the borders would disappear,
i wish there would be springs in all holes in the ground,
i wish our steps would not be swallowed by sand.
i wish all dead trees would go green, and all birds would sing,
now.
because: i am here only now.
but there is no hell: it is here, it is the purgatory.
i know since childhood. i've gone the way through
and must walk on.
it is the way to the waste land where visions and creatures,
fig trees and oranges, humans and butterflies are born: then the dead will see.
wishes are irrelevant.

me, dispersed all over

me, dispersed all over
Europe, the equatorial
rains, the Rift Valley,
dust from the Sahara

me, particles left
with ashes, sand, with
breath and blood,
kisses and sperm,
in the scent of pine trees

and herbs all over
the South, and here,
in the cigarette smoke
blown through my rooms

me, dispersed all over,
nothing but footprints
disappearing with changes
of the weather and me

so, why me, why,
why always ask me,
i am nothing and
will be nothing you

cannot create alone.
why must i incarnate
to presence when our
souls cannot incarnate

in silent harmony, why
follow the calling, the pain,
why flowers and greens,
these signals of hope

when i must collect cobwebs,
fairy tales, bark and stones,
seagull cries and horns
to shape my face and voice

only to stay seated
on the bench of life, next
to these dancing, in frozen
despair and disgust

let them dance, step by
step, whirling and stopping
their own weight and their ease,
meeting and going

to come back, to start again,
the music plays on, a cruel
game, why must i follow
the music like a rabbit

waiting for the bite of
the snake, the end.
me, dispersed, all over,
sitting next to me

i need no name, i have
no home, leave me with
the wind, the wind, the wind.
the gravel falls, me, it can fly.

but no, here you call,
here i find my voice,
humming and humming,
rhythms of blood: i bleed

when i talk, when i write,
living, we are all bleeding,
the heart is coming out
and only in giving it smiles

why, God, did you give
a heart to the soul, light,
when i wished to hide
in the dark forest of night

why does life cut me in pieces
and why do you, you who must
be you, who if not me
will help me to heal

me, dispersed all over,
in deserts and waves,
naked in endless oceans,
why must i live if not for love?

i dreamt the silver moon,
the bluebells, the forget me nots,
cinnamon and ginger, vanilla,
and o, i dreamt the sun

coming out of a rainbow
without mercy, killingly
bright. see, it was me
who dreamt them
and now all is here.

i dreamt the fishes,
as they leap out of the lake
they are all me, all you,
they sink and swim in grace:

there is nothing what
i could not dream,
monsters, dragons,
fire and earthquakes.

i created them,
they are mine.
i give all, all to you,
i forgot that i must

have wanted them.
i forgot my hands, my arms,
i lost my skin,
me, dispersed allover.