• Since forever it has been this way...

    I am usually born inside this house, and renewed through an organized and repeated cycle, like the switching of day and night.

    Me and my siblings are born together until it's the time for me to be brighter.
    When the time comes, i always dress up in the manner and image of origin, and i repeat my attendance every season without complaint.

    But it does not happen as easily and randomly as my words may illuminate it to be.
    Troubles are always present, and suffer is the tax i pay to live and achieve myself, and be renewed taking doses of pain along the way, putting up with the uncountable dangers that lie on my path.

    It happens, that the circumstances are hard, they are probably always hard, i saw my those of my kind as they were grounded under the teeth of some ugly rat, or disappear in the beak of a pretty bird, or faced with stubborn weather and soil circumstances, so they'd have returned to nothingness.

    I am usually born with those of my kind tugged in, in my soft green cocoon, and i remain under my sky which from this position of mine seems to be a shiny purple.
    So i lay down under my small sky surrendering to it's care, and i grow, then i feel big pity for it as it dries out, and cracks open eliminating itself so that this beautiful sky becomes a golden crust completing my decoration, preparing me for the promised day, the day of self-achievement and resurrection in the image of my forefathers (those of perfection and grace).

    I am like a little child that looks over his mothers shoulder, and cannot see the places and people except when for when I'm reciting from them, or they're escaping me, so they soon become past, and i miss the chance of confrontation, challenge, and catching the living moment...that is how my relations to the world were like, and my own sky a golden crust, pouring me a cozy warmth off the heat of the sun, so i move from i world I've known so well to a world i do not know about.

    I look at the past with stubbornness and irony: i remember, a dirty spot, a drop of water going through a green transparent coat, they call it, dewdrop. I also remember a sting of cold. And a warm dot of milk.

    At some moment, all the images hidden in me gather up, and light my imagination... Imagination is that station that creates immeasurable energies that give me confidence, so i can turn my gold sky into royal robes...So i stand bragging with my maturity, and decorate my chest with necklaces, and my wrists with bracelets, and i put on earrings of green corundum on my ears, and i wipe my eyes with shade...and the instant i put the crown of perfection on my head, i feel a strong heat around me, and a fire burning inside of me, so i slip off and fall from my kingdom, and knock the doors on earth, door after door, to escape this hell, and the guards of that earth welcome me with a great festival that they call "the season". Guard, after guard, removing more and more of my make up, and my jewels.

    To be continued...