Večnost

Trenutek, ko skozi čipkasto tančico ujamem tvoj pogled

in moje nosnice vzdrgetajo v ritmu prebujenega srca.

Trenutek, ko se blazinice mojih prstov dotaknejo tvoje ranljivosti

in se koža spomni čutne noči, ki se nikoli ni zgodila.

Trenutek, ko sediva v tišini razigranega popoldneva

in slišim vse neizrečene, na rob ustnic ujete besede.

Trenutek, ko moj nasmeh objame tvojega

in mi usta preplavi sladko hrepenenje.

Trenutek, ko požirek za požirkom spijem vso tvojo bolečino

in moje srce v naročje vzame tvojo drhtečo negotovost.

Trenutek, ko štejem svoje pritajene vzdihe poželenja

in razgaljena v svoji razrvanosti pričakujem čas slovesa.

Trenutek, ko se čas ustavi in trenutek postane večnost.

Tukaj sva že sedeli, kajne? Nekoč. Nekje.

by: Me 

Pred-Valentinovo

Z grozo sem ugotovila, da se ponavljam. Po hitrem pregledu mojega bloga sem namreč znervirano ugotovila, da se čisto preveč vrtim okoli ljubezni. Morda pa se je slednji ravno zato uspelo nekajkrat izmuzniti iz primeža mojih dolgih prstov, ki se prepogosto oklepajo vseh besed, ki se začnejo s črko L. Ljubezen, Ljubljana, labela, lahkotnost, lokvanj, ladja, lepota, če jih naštejem le nekaj. Je čas za spremembo? Seveda. Vedno je čas za to. No, to je zdaj Laž.

Rada imam črko L. Zakaj je ne bi imela? In glavno vprašanje, zakaj bi se ji izogibala ravno na predvečer dneva, ki je po besedah naših iznajdljivih trgovcev, posvečen najlepši besedi, ki se začne s to srečno 13. črko naše abecede. Ljubezen. Jutri je Valentinovo, dan kot nalašč za vse kičaste čustvene izpovedi srečno zaljubljenih golobov, ki zadnje tedne moj vhod vztrajno pacajo s svojimi fekalijami. Človek ne more, da jih ne bi imel rad! Ne vem, kdo si je izmislil frazo, da zaljubljeni pari spominjajo na 'golobčke'. Če bi to iskreno čustvo že morali pripisati pernatim prijateljem, bi sama raje izbrala labode. Ko se s svojimi vratovi ovijajo okoli svojega izbranca/izbranke, se jih kar ne morem nagledati ...

Zato bom jutri v mislih hranila labode na Blejskem jezeru in upala, da zame uprizorijo paritveni ples, ki me bo opomnil na to, da pravi ljubimci za izkazovanje nežnosti ne potrebujejo za to posebej določenega dneva, šopkov poceni rož in drugorazredne čokolade.  Imejte se radi dragi moji. Ne le jutri, ampak 365 dni v letu. Ker leto mine še preden se boste dobro zavedli, vsak izgubljen dan pa lahko pomeni ključen kamenček v mozaiku sreče. 

Dear Juliet ...

So I guess the fact that I am sending you these words,  tells you, that I do think about love. I think about it a lot, too often maybe, but what can I do ... Love is my muse and I do not want to imagine my life without this warm feeling inside. Feeling that makes me feel so alive. I have loved and have been loved so many times in my life that I really should not fuss about it. Actually, my life has always been fulfilled with LOVE. So I guess I got used to it. Maybe I even developed an addiction. Am I a love-addict?

Dear J, let's get to the point. As you have probably already assumed,  my midnight thoughts about love are actually about... Partnership love! Soulmates. Twin-flames. You name it. Oh Juliet, all great love stories do not end like yours did, do they? Because if they do, I am in a huge dilemma. No one wants for  their flames to die in agony to fulfill the absolute feeling of unconditional love! What would you do if Romeo was still alive? What if you would discover, he was not that special after all? Would you still stick with your decision and still see him as your hero? Would the magic be gone? Would Shakespeare have to write a sequel and call it 'Another one went down'? I guess we will never know.

You are probably waiting for my question, since that is what women visiting your wall in Verona usually do. Well, I do not think I have a question for you. Not the one I would not have yet the answer myself. Love should be simple. It should be a moment of magic and everything that follows that moment should just prove, that we have been right from the start. Right? So why do we fight for it constantly? Why do we stumble and fall, cry and pick the pieces every time something does not go our way? Maybe because we are not just characters from a book ... Our destinies are not in writers hands. We write our own stories. Does that mean we love to suffer from time to time, adding some extra drama to the timeline of our life that should simply be about enjoying the moments?

You are lucky Juliet. You are not fighting against the walls people build around themselves. Right the opposite! You use the wall, that beautiful piece of architecture in Verona, to make people open up to you. Pour their hearts out and stuck their stories on the wall of love. It is kind of funny, now that I thought of it. We are ready to pin our hearts to the wall, but we are often not able to climb the walls of the ones we love. Maybe we should not try to climb it. Maybe we should just open up, make a daring step, spill our colorful hearts on other person's wall and make it beautiful with it. Like people with their love letters do to your wall in Verona ...

That is exactly, what I will do dear Juliet. I will paint the walls of the ones I love and care about. Who knows, maybe that way they will not be ashamed of their walls anymore and will proudly show it to the world. It is worth the try.

Thank you Lady J! I am sticking this letter between the 3rd and 4th stone in the 5th line from the bench. I hope you will find it one day and write me back. Because it is never too late for love. Right? Right.

Sincerely,

your Shia <3

p.s. Inspired by movie Letters to Juliet. Thank you Hollywood.

V Pričakovanju Pričakovanj

Nedolgo nazaj sem se odločila, da ne bom  ničesar več pričakovala. Od nikogar. Tudi od sebe ne. Enostavno se bom prepustila toku dogajanj in videla, kam me bo naplavilo. Zadnje dni  ugotavljam, da se to morda sliši enostavno, a ni ravno 'my cup of tea'. Izgubljam se v tem nepričakovanju pričakovanega. Nekajkrat me je že vrglo na suho, parkrat zalilo,tako intenzivno, da sem komaj sproti zajemala sapo, sicer pa sem večino časa preplula sedeč na palubi, gledajoč v valove, ki so v sebi skrivali vsa moja hrepenenja, želje in ...ja, pričakovanja! Vprašanje za milijon dolarjev: Kako se odvadiš pričakovati?

Morda pa so včasih naša pričakovanja le naše najbolj skrite želje, za katere si želimo, da bi nam priplavale naproti ... Morda pa v njih le ni nič slabega, čeprav nas večkrat pustijo razočarane, razgaljene in razbite na koščke, ki se le redko v popolnosti sestavijo nazaj. Zaradi vsega naštetega res rastemo? Ali je to le sodobna oblika mučenja, verzija v celofan zavitega  mazohizma, zaradi katerega se počutimo žive?

Pričakujem, torej živim, ali pričakujem in ob tem počasi ubijam otroka v sebi?  Danes je soba s pogledom na moje srce polna pričakovanj. Ker trenutno ne znam drugače. Ker se ob pričakovanjih še vedno večkrat nasmehnem kot spustim solzo. Naj bo danes tako. Morda bo jutri drugače.

Vse.

Vse bi dala za en objem. Za dve besedi, ki mi ju je včasih taka rada šepetala na ušesa. Vse bi dala. 

Vse bi dala za obujene ukradene poljube na ulicah starega mestnega jedra. Za topel stisk njene dlani pod zvezdnatim nebom. Vse bi dala.  

Vse bi dala za najini srci, sklenjeni v objemu zaupanja in nežnosti. Za ogenj v njenih očeh, ki mi je sporočal, da njena duša gori le zame. Vse bi dala.

Vse bi dala za večer na njenem balkonu, prežet s spomini na včeraj, hvaležnostjo za danes in načrti za jutri. Za njen nasmeh, ki je razsvetlil moje telo do zadnjega atoma predanosti. Vse bi dala.

Vse bi dala za eno noč pobarvano z njenimi vzdihi. Za najini telesi oviti v sestavljanko , ki je končno našla svoj izgubljeni del. Vse bi dala.

Vse bi dala za vonj njenih las v poletnem večeru. Za njeno sloko figuro, ki se privija k meni v hladu zimskega večera med štirimi stenami. Vse bi dala.

Vse bi dala, da v tej zgodbi ne bi nastopali midve, temveč dve drugi izgubljeni duši, ki sta zašli s poti sreče in se vrtita v začaranem krogu žalosti. Vse bi dala.

Vse sem dala.  In vse bi dala, da bi lahko dala še več.

The Day I Lost My Yesterday Because Of My Tomorrow

I was clinging onto my yesterday for a long time. I was hanging from the edge on my hands only,  till my nails start to bleed. Drops of blood were falling towards my heart, that was beating in a sad rhytm of lost moments. The second the drops reached the very center of my heart, they turned into tears of happiness. Salty and sweet at the same time. 

The today's beating of the heart suddenly started to say goodbye to all of the yesterday's heartbeats. It hugged them, kissed their warm cheeks and wished them all the best. Heartbeats waved goodbye and started their journey towards another heart in need. They will keep yesterday's heart in the nicest memory possible and look back at it with a smile on their faces.

Today is the day I lost my Yesterday Because of my Tomorrow. But the Love stayed with me. And it always will...

Absence of Silence

The more I think, the more I change the way I see things. What is the purpose of this never ending cycle of redefining my wishes, desires, needs and ideals? Why things don't just stay the same, letting us settle in the comfort of the known and safe environment we were building for some time? I am tired of changes. I am tired of reinventing my prospects, digging out new visions and rebuilding who I am. I want things to be eternal, simple and peaceful. I don't want to worry about tomorrow, I don't want to dwell on yesterday, I simply want to enjoy today. I, I, I ...  I don't want to use the word 'I' so much. I am tired of it. I don't want to be tired anymore. I ... Sometimes I am so lost I don't even know what I want anymore. I am looking for a peace of mind, a moment of silence, when there will be no thoughts rumbling across my mind. That would be nice. Actually that would be beyond perfect.

I don't want to think right now, but I can't stop writing down the words running through my mind, even though with every written word I loose an atom of myself. I want to take some serious time off, lay in the grass, smell the flowers around me, observe the dancing clouds on a clear blue sky, play with the shadow following me everywhere I go. I urge for the peace of mind so much, the peace started to scare me. I am worried, because I carry this growing feeling  inside of me. The feeling that is telling me that absence of silence leads to absence of sanity. 

But at the end, who is sane these days...

Extremely Close Incredibly Loud

If people could see behind and beyond every bad decision they make, would they still choose the same path? Would they still destroy, kill, humiliate and ruin destinies of people, they do not even know? Would they think twice before pulling the trigger, lighting the match, signing the paper? If people could feel the pain of the souls surrounding them, would they still look away pretending it is none of their business? Would they still ignore the pleadings of the lost ones, screams from the edge of sanity and crying of the broken spirits? If every spoken word would come right back to you, would you still always say it before thinking it over twice? If every wound you caused to someone else would be killing you slowly too, would you still walk over someone' dream, burn their hopes and stomp dance on the tears of the ones weaker than yourself?  If every time someone gives up on their life, the world would get smaller, would you still pretend your problems are bigger than empathy? If every lost childhood would take away few years from your life would you still decline the shelter of your arms to a person that only needs a hug and a comforting embrace of warm words? If you would finally realize, that every thing you do affects every one you know almost the same as the ones you have never met ... Would you still use the word ME more often than the word YOU? Realize it. Realize that US is much more powerful than I and suddenly the world will start to spin in the right direction. Because even though our lives seem light years apart, we are all extremely close and incredibly loud.

Besame Mucho

A touch and all it's hidden shades of gray ... The Touch and all the screaming facts beneath it. So simple, yet such intense gift of deliberate affection or accidental flash of hidden desires. Skin on skin, like soul on soul, floating around the world of unspoken words. Unconditional symphony of instincts covered with sanity, the primal need of closeness and disability to ignore the heartbeat of most inner sympathies. Touch. Me. You. Breathing me in, so I can breathe you out - the everlasting game of everlasting life. Touch me. Because I am you and you are me. Because the night is so cold without it. Because I was born in your eye pupil and died in your tear. Besame. Besame mucho.

The Beauty Of Imaginary Recession

I just love the beauty of imaginary recession. The broken pride and shattered dreams of each and everyone of us. I love how we are afraid of tomorrow and in denial about yesterday. Imaginary Recession is a blessing. It is the opportunity for us to grow and fight for what we really want. I want to embrace the scared little girl inside of me and show her the way to the right path. I was born a dreamer, I still am and will remain one. Anything I dreamed about ten years ago, I now have. And I am certain that ten years from now I will live surrounded by everything I am dreaming about now. It's the power of my own thoughts and wishes, my devoted work and beautiful people I share my life with. I just love the beauty of imaginary recession. I love the rejections and humiliations that are thrown into my face on daily basis and push me back to where I once started so I can pick myself up and arise from the dust just like Phoenix did. I need to learn to be strong and not let them kill the child in me. It's the most precious thing I posses. And it must survive. Especially in times like the ones we are facing now. Imaginary recession is fragile like one's dreams are. Is as strong as our fears are. Don't fear anything. You are above it all. Once we start believing that again we will win it. We will kill imaginary recession. Break it into millions of invisible pieces that will be as harmless as snowflakes falling from invisible clouds. So, let's love the imaginary recession. Let's dream, not because there is nothing else left for us to do, but because we are worth the best. It's time for us to take what we want. Not ask for it. Take it. Thank you beautiful imaginary recession. Soon you will be nothing more but a beautiful memory of much needed time of awakening.