Deux figures et colombe, Pablo Picasso

A dream within a dream, Edgar A. Poe

Take this kiss upon the brow! 
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow-
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream; 
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone? 
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.

I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand-
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep- while I weep! 
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp? 
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave? 
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?

I do not love you, Pablo Neruda

(who knows...?)

I do not love you except because I love you; 
I go from loving to not loving you,
From waiting to not waiting for you
My heart moves from cold to fire.

I love you only because it's you the one I love; 
I hate you deeply, and hating you
Bend to you, and the measure of my changing love for you
Is that I do not see you but love you blindly.

Maybe January light will consume
My heart with its cruel
Ray, stealing my key to true calm.

In this part of the story I am the one who
Dies, the only one, and I will die of love because I love you,
Because I love you, Love, in fire and blood. 

Komal Madar - IndiaLucia

retirement and change

for the last year i travelled through my own identity in sometimes lucid and other times

clouded circles, spirals in the end opening to surprises and emptiness, to a bird calling or to a

sleepless night.

the subject of my writing focussed on what moved me, desire and dreams.

my focus slowly changes, so do I.

i cannot count the days i still have to live here.

the sea of life takes and gives.

there are these who imagine a river, in the sea no river can flow on its own.

though life is directional in the imagination of most individuals going from here to there, from birth to death, from pre-life to after-death, in deep reality it is non-directional.

it is a matter of swimming, drowning, suffering, feeling joy and dying at the same time as living.

nobody really 'knows' where to he or she is going.

many times for man with his unfortunate and wonderful ability for consciousness  the being taken away by waves is a struggle between fear and desire, between night and day, him being part of a game not played by himself. 

what can remain is to find patterns and rhythms on our journey through this sea which allow us to 

breathe in the moment in the valleys as well as on the crest of waves.

there will be always only this moment, the next one is uncertain , different, unforeseeable.

still, we being fools and idiots , we must set sails though we have no other place to go.

our task is maybe only this: to travel, to experience, to reflect, to long for the stars where we came from, to learn and to know with the days passing that our aims are futile and our longing will not be fulfilled whereever we go.

when we meet, we are curious and frightened, we open and close. we remember the pain of birth and 

we know that one man can deal death to another. the confusion and fear gets worse when we try to see and feel  in the other one this lonely knowledge of our origin, the song of our stars. we may see this in a drop of dew or in the light through the foliage of a forest ,we experience in innocence, but the other one we experience with our knowledge and coming with a past. we feel a need for defence:who would fight a dove in flight or the rain falling. this is why the way of  love with another human is the most difficult part of life, and to lift the veils is not always easy nor beautiful. 

in the meantime i'm here,the noise of a plane mingles with the sound of waves clashing on rocks, with the wind and with the background chattering of people taking coffee here.

full moon in porto