The melting Clock

And I found myself immersed in the sea of endless duties and everchanging situations, not for the faint of heart.... Ah! Heart, what a fucking irony.....


life was tough, far from beauty, family, dog, cats, car, house, entangled in the luminosity of the situations that drain energy and far from those who recharge it, found inside an inside, a neurobrainiac wave of irrevocably new and huge pieces of information that I deemed otherwise impossibly complex, but at the end of the day they were the reason for my physical, coordinated advancement in societal and knowledge levels.

Such a challenge, far viewed to some, in the hands of this humble warrior, was motivating without precedence, and at the same time part of a war that whilst I knew was sometimes too much for this experienced folk, was a challenge tailored for thee, for it's surge of possibilities was huge, ending not only in that of becoming the heart specialist, but in the fact that it was an experience meant to be lived, at the cost of getting far from beauty, family, dog, cats, car, house....

Beauty was becoming so independent, that it was impossible not to underrate the nervousness about such beauty, on her own, detailed and exquisitely wanted by wolves, panthers and every creature there was, even wanted by the same leaves that once fell above us both ... and it was ok, this folk not because he knew, but because he understood, that beauty was a mainframe of details in every aspect of the luminescence of the soul, that she was light in the darkness that surrounded her, but of course that was the reason she acquired the folks soul to keep, tho she was no soul stealer, it was given to her willingly, and that was the fun of it, the fun of reciprocity, of a love that was in no matter obligated or forced, but the farthest it found itself, the broader and bigger it became, so much that earthquakes could not move it.

So long, the spices of mint and hummus could not erase from his mind the smell of her neck, the beautifulness in Beauty's smile, that kept him awake for hours, in an insomniac desire of being blessed with her smell one more time, like time was frozen in a clock that was melting in the middle of nowhere.

So much sacrifice for an advancement in life, having tasted heaven and having left it for a broader good, is that not what the story of the savior is about? Sacrificing what you love the most (at least temporarily in this case) for a broader, wider good....

But there's no good sailor's story without leaving and missing and coming back soon and realizing that happiness is not something to leave behind for it's found once in a lifetime. And the sensation of coming back from the war, and seeing Beauty's face again, smelling Beauty's neck again, Tasting Beauty's body again, hearing her laugh, seeing her eat, be that cat that lights the room .... we'll see about that, that's the part of the story that the mariner rather keeps in a private log, only, for his enjoyment.