I write. When you have inspiration, you don't have to block it. It's like blocking a raging river, an erupting volcano, a band of protesters during what can be called a revolution.
We all lead a life that sooner or later will have to undergo analysis. This can be defined as the right moment, indeed the perfect moment, that is the night.
I stop, I look outside, the night upsets me too much. These stars are too beautiful. The sun goes down and thoughts rise. I think the night is the sweet spot for everyone.
Wise friend and kind adviser and at the same time despair of insomnia and unexpected nightmares. The night.
I am writing by interrupting myself very often, making many full stops, leaving what should be obvious and obvious slightly in suspense. But that's how it is at night.
You want to clarify, wriggle between your problems and your paranoia but she makes you a barrier of stars, engulfs you in her luminous shadow and takes you into her galaxy.
He puts a full stop and removes that strange squiggle that makes up the question mark. It ends your hopes and fuels them at the same time.
He does some strange things tonight.
God, thank you for having created the night, a forbidden and inaccessible place for those who do not dream and a place of enchantment and wonder for free minds. For brave, bold and fearless spirits.
Give me strength tonight too.
Tonight I know that you are my friend, sweet darkness, cradle me and put me to sleep, take the reins of my life and take me far where no one knows.
Make me yours and make me a star because I want to shine and bring peace.
I fought white ghosts to come and find you, Jesus,
I crossed my inner deserts and all fears,
to come and discover you, and I'm tired,
I walked too much,
I broke many shoes and lost a lot of water on the long journey.
And I didn't know where to go, I'm a homeless girl,
with a star on my forehead,
and they call me Comet,
and I don't know where to go anymore
and I follow your star because Christmas will come
but I will die in a dumpster or maybe at the sea,
maybe not you will see me among the sheep and the shepherds,
perhaps I will be elsewhere and I will finally have found the end of my pain.
Dear Jesus, here I am, I'm a girl destroyed by life,
and I'm not a beautiful presence in your crib and I won't be able
to stay there or will you welcome me anyway?
They say you were a friend of the poor
nd I have nothing to give you, and my heart is tired,
and I'm tired,
and the journey is over and still deserted inside me,
no plants, no flowers, I woke up this morning moody.
The sky is gray inside me and I have only one thought
and will that star shine for me too that night?
It will probably be the last thing I will see in this life.
If one day, watching TV, they interrupt the programs to inform you that a comet is coming on earth what would you do? Would you believe who discovered this comet? Would you doubt? Would you go to the one you love to save them? By now it happens more and more often to read news about dangerous comets or meteorites. What attention do you give to such news? Do they shake you or do you remain impassive?Have you ever known something important and tried to tell someone and not be believed? Sometimes certain things seem so strange and impossible to be true yet by the time you realize they are true it will be too late.
THE PRODIGY OF IDEAS 