Profound melancholy, unrest,
and the night...no chance, no way will it let
me see anything.
I am losing words, for the feeling is more subtle
and so pitiless, how do I say anything?
At a familiar place, surrounded by another silence,
I see another melancholy, unexpressed,
not even daring to write.
These words are useless.
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3 comments:
No, they are not, they are not useless. they say, and talk to others and create a venue, aspace and a time in which they make sense, have the right to exist, offer a locus from where one move on. amazingly, this and the later post of yours are so intrinsecally similar to my recent posts (hidden stories between the lines of a discussion on friendships) that i am speechless. i feel like i know exactly what you are talking about, but, again, maybe is not. but the power of poetry it is just this, for me, that the same lines talk to many of different dreams.
anyway, thanks for them. Can I point to them from my blog?
Of course you can.
To be honest, when I wrote this "poem", I actually meant every word I said. But For once, I am willing to believe that words might, just might also liberate.
thanks and...yes, liberate , and that is just the beginning :)
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