» In a wild state
» Catherine Wheel
» Seven Sages
» Wandering riders
» Beyond curtain
» A love poison
» Blind world
» Jack O'Lantern
» Giotto's pastels
» Preludes to Lutin
The laugh of the moon
It's two of night and two white gulls fly between the rosy clouds with the imminent rain.
I announce to you that I will reign above the last fragments of beauty of the planet. We cannot know if at the end it will stay only the beauty.
I am the moon. I look at you from up here while you agitate to live yourselves, humen. I want to explain some age-old misunderstandings and fake opinions that you have over myself to squander them. It is not true that I am sad. If you observed me more attentive when I am full, doing not superimpose your bag of sadnesses to the mine I turn, you could note that the folds darken form on the mine masks now pale, now lit, a rather cheerful expression. I give again, wringing slightly the eye, winking, accomplice far away of your earthly nights.
I amuse myself when hidden under a thick blanket of clouds someone among you seeks me in vain before it rain on the world.
I do not feel myself ever turned to thin scythe like you see reduced me from the whole one. I am always equal inside. Are you that every so often mistake one thing for another.
Let's stop also with this stupid hypothesis on my alleged impossible love with the sun or that more reasonable for affinity with the planet of the rings. I am for inclination a lonely one that love to imagine the stories, an onanist like you define who makes love with himself. If I grant myself an embrace to the century is in order to do not forget me that feeling so human. And I hide carefully those handfuls of minutes between the stars more strangers, in order to noone can find the track in the whole solar system.
If it was agreed me from mother nature, I would want that my paleness became fatally horrifying to illuminate the rooms of the powerful jailers. I would create frightening games of shadow from that were able to materialize itself chinese phantoms with tongue and crest of dragon with yellow eyes without pupils.
I would upset the human, since if the purpose is the happiness and to be happy often is necessary to be little humen, then is mark that be urgent a new balance not more human, I play harmonious onwards and in down for the staircases of the living. So the plants enjoy, listening to the 'Pater Noster' of Liszt or 'The Lame Devil' of Haydn and grow under my brightness.