There was a time for me when really the grass was greener and the light was brighter. A time when I was at peace. I had my place in the World, God spoke to me through the sounds of my woody mountains. The Spring breeze; the clouds of ephemeral day-flies which rose from the grass at Summer dusk; the wide full moonlight on the snow in Winter; the celebration of red, yellow, brown and purple, burnt gold and orange of herbs, trees and mushrooms in Autumn. All this was mine. And the huge, hairy, white dog, so hunger of caresses; the black cat and the white, so different so similar, my house yin and yang; the animals in the wood, hushed movements, loud love recalls, paw prints in the mud. And the hawk in the sky, the rush of wild hogs and deer, the white shadow of a barn owl in the nocturnal forest of majestic firs, the waddling run of the porcupine caught by the car lights, clusters of Helleborus green flowers among the naked trees, white spots of big mushrooms on the slopes of pastures.
I lost everything. The red beer sipped on the bench, outside the kitchen. It had a sweeter taste. I lost it. The smell of fir wood smoke, I feel it in my dreams. I lost it. The wood fire was warmer than any heater. I lost it. The frozen ground at the King in Winter arrival. I lost it. The shining sun on the lake's water, its gold light under a nimbus, its last beams on the treetops. That light was brighter. I lost it.
Small creatures tied us to the ground, grieving and resenting beings. A man and a woman fell down, just one stood up again. I passed over her. Maybe I had to stay and just lay aside her. But she never asked me to stay and I didn't wait. She didn't want me at her side and I left. The desire of a dream dragged me afar. That dream is still unsatisfied, just partially filled. Now, looking back, beyond the bridge I walked through, I can see how greener the grass was on the other side.
I met who wants me aside, sweet lips to bite, deep eyes to lose myself in. How much simpler would be to have foes to fight to, a Dark Lord to rise against to, an enemy to cut the head off to reach happiness. But there is not a Dark Lord nor enemies. Ourselves are our own foes. It's worse.
I have a sweet mate. Just the bridge side is wrong. I'm on the wrong shore.
The taste is more bitter here.
I lost everything. The red beer sipped on the bench, outside the kitchen. It had a sweeter taste. I lost it. The smell of fir wood smoke, I feel it in my dreams. I lost it. The wood fire was warmer than any heater. I lost it. The frozen ground at the King in Winter arrival. I lost it. The shining sun on the lake's water, its gold light under a nimbus, its last beams on the treetops. That light was brighter. I lost it.
Small creatures tied us to the ground, grieving and resenting beings. A man and a woman fell down, just one stood up again. I passed over her. Maybe I had to stay and just lay aside her. But she never asked me to stay and I didn't wait. She didn't want me at her side and I left. The desire of a dream dragged me afar. That dream is still unsatisfied, just partially filled. Now, looking back, beyond the bridge I walked through, I can see how greener the grass was on the other side.
I met who wants me aside, sweet lips to bite, deep eyes to lose myself in. How much simpler would be to have foes to fight to, a Dark Lord to rise against to, an enemy to cut the head off to reach happiness. But there is not a Dark Lord nor enemies. Ourselves are our own foes. It's worse.
I have a sweet mate. Just the bridge side is wrong. I'm on the wrong shore.
The taste is more bitter here.
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