Language is short.

 

I am standing at the top of the hill,

wind all over my face,

I can hear the ocean waves,

rumbling inside my ear.

I am standing tall and still,

I can see the blue particles of water and air,

I can feel thousands of mermaids laughing at me,

thousand of angles staring at my body.

I am standing at the top of the hill,

I have the universe resting at my feet,

waiting for another verse forming inside me,

the hill carries me lightly, tells me it’s OK,

flock of birds sing the same song passing my head.

I’m standing tall and still,

my mother has never told me,

about all the secrets of the world and never will.

White cloud passes through my chest cage,

I eat it and exhale it all,

the wonder of it all,

the charm and the morality,

days and years far inside,

another reality.

I’m standing at the top of the hill,

they call my spirit name,

many I know their shape and many

I’ve never met,

yellow leaves caress my face, saying goodbye

fair well till then,

we shall meet alive,

the leaves are my friends,

asking me to wake up,

I’m awake, a thought inside my self.

I’m standing tall and still,

I’m witnessing miracles,

I’m shivering with intense love and attention,

I’m full, I’m drunk, yet sober with vision,

a heat, sun ray burns my feet,

am I on fire or a fire inside me,

balls of flame fly freely,

in the midst clear sky,

merely and fairly.

Here, there are no names,

we are all part of each other,

sister and brother,

no, it’s a child and a mother,

no, it’s a bird and a feather.

I’m standing on top of the hill,

a stranger asks me: why?

I have no answers nor questions,

I have a soul and can’t help but live,

I am living today and tomorrow,

all at once, I’m living the past tense.

when a bicycle wheel touches the ground,

only then, I’m here, now, I’m found,

the rest of the wheel past and future,

and they complete the whole cycle.

 

Your love, oh, your love,

it’s the gentlest form to perform,

your love, have me high and above,

your love, my lover,

I can’t define,

all is mine,

something higher than love,

have me rest and align,

something like love,

but, its source, is divine.

Language is short,

I know.