One Chaotic Mind

My muse left me alone to contemplate. I’m fighting against the beasts of my imagination to find a windless harbor for my thoughts and feelings. Am I going to be ever safe? Sirens and Cyclops haunt me along to my Odysseus like trip. Will I ever return to my own Ithaca? The journey is what actually matters, some would say, but what about the destination? Isn’t it important at all? I’m still wandering around without aim, lost in my illusionary dreams that keep leading me towards plain disillusion.

I decided to be frank to my emotions and write about the essence and the truth of things, though what is essential and true to me may be not to you. So, what’s the point for doing so? I think I am repeating myself. Forgive me. That’s what happens when my muse is absent. Give me a second to recollect my thoughts. Everything seems to be vague and blurred right now. You’ll probably consider that I’m crazy or under some weird medication side effects. You are wrong. I’m equally reasonable as you are.

Well, maybe not. Maybe something is wrong with me after all. One chaotic mind in the chaos of the universe is nothing but a dispensable microcosm within an everlasting macrocosm. What was I saying? My memory began to abandon me, too. Out of inspiration I am trying to conceive the inconceivable. Do you feel my stress?

I guess it’s time to stop pretending that I’m writing something worth reading and just return to my contemplation process. Alienated and miserable in my golden cage I may draw my muse’s attention and sympathy. So, farewell my dear world!

A Wounded Butterfly

From sky above the world I clearly see
As cloudy vessels passing quickly by
Over the mad and wild state of the sea
One lonely and wounded Butterfly.
It flies with the will and force of the wind
It blossoms by the warmest sun shines
The old stains furnishing its broken wing
Reminds of the good fun flying times.
Dear Butterfly those times art past here come
And rest yourself for thou art sick and tired
Of flying to places away from dome
Thy trip is not yet to its end arrived.
Dear Wind thy will is true and true must be
But let this being to once rest free.

The Doom

On a school trip Lisa visited the Parthenon, the notorious temple dedicated to Goddess Athena, which gallantly stands on the Acropolis since antiquity. The young girl was not much interested in the ancient monument that seemed to her more like a set of tall columns and eroded rocks than a sacred place. Before ascending the Acropolis, they had visited the museum, another boring place to be for a restless teenager like Lisa. Yet, time had passed there faster, why Lisa was playful mocking the statues’ nudity and posture. Instead of wandering among pieces of rocks and marbles, Lisa preferred to admire the panoramic view of the capital and think of all the fun and entertainment she would have that night. Not being able to get out of there on her own, she entered the Parthenon and pretended to be listening to the tour guide.

While standing at the back of the group, Lisa heard a slight whisper calling her outside. She turned around curiously, but saw no one. She walked towards the exit that was blindly sunny and made her cover her eyes with her arm. When she regained her proper sight, she examined the place. Everything seemed normally peaceful. Being outside the temple, she searched for a shadowy spot to protect her delicate white skin from the burning sun shines.

Under a tall tree she found a shelter and decided to stay there as long as the touring would come to its end. Suddenly, an old blind man appeared before her eyes out of nowhere. Lisa felt at first upset by his presence, but after a better look at him she felt pity. He was a very old man with white beard, skinny hands and wrinkled face. The young girl stood up immediately and gave her seat to the elder. However, he didn’t seem to appreciate much of her kind gesture. On the contrary, he uttered loudly with a booming voice:

“Pity me not my child
Beware on your way
The gods went mad and wild
Of what you do and say.
Pity me not my child
Beware of the light
The mood of spirits’ not yet mild
You’ll see their rage tonight!”

Lisa got frightened by his words that echoed around and made the soil tremble. A wind of dust blew wildly blurring the girl’s sight once again. After a while the wind ceased and the place became as peaceful as before. The elder had disappeared and Lisa ran towards the school group that was already exiting the temple. Her friends noticed her weird attitude and scared eyes, but their questions of what had happened remained unanswered. Lisa wasn’t able to explain the unexplainable, so she said nothing.

When they returned to the hotel, Lisa took a shower and tried to relax and forget the whole story that was very illogical whatsoever. Having no mood but a terrible headache, she decided to stay at her room while her friends went out to enjoy Athens by night. She was tossing and tumbling in bed anxiously failing to fall asleep for hours. Finally, she stood up and neared the window. Viewing the Acropolis and the Parthenon lighted a creepy feeling obsessed her and the sound of the elder’s words echoed in her ears like drums.

A streak of lighting in the middle of a sudden storm made the ground shake and a shadowy figure appeared outside the window. It was the old blind man pointing with his skinny finger towards the temple. Lisa stayed still in terror. On a two wheel float driven by a dog with three heads, Hades flew above the city, escorted by an armada of screaming souls.

Lisa tried to leave the room, but her feet didn’t obey her commands. Scared to death she started screaming and crying without anyone coming for help. Sure of her doom and even though she was unable to conceive the supernatural events, she repented bitterly for the scorns and the disrespect to the gods. A miracle then happened. The old man transformed into Goddess Athena who raised her hands against the arrival of Hades, preventing him from entering the room. At that point Lisa lost her senses and fainted on the bed.

After a while Lisa’s teacher got in the room to check on her. She reached the girl that seemed roughly to be sleeping and sat next to her. When Lisa opened her eyes the teacher said:

“Go to sleep my child
Beware no more
Let your fears slide
Off the spirit shore.”

Unrequited Love

Being a married woman, childless and isolated, love for her was the only thing in matter. She was a beautiful young lady both inwards and outwards, something that seemed to be flattering her husband more than herself. She had been serving him with chastity, since the very first day of their marriage. Her behavior was always characterized by smoothness, calm and patience, as if she was divinely guided to do so. Her caring and comforting acts were viewed by her husband as a safe haven among the storms of life. She never complaint or grumbled about anything, having strong faith and hope for a better tomorrow. She made numerous sacrifices for his sake and happiness, for granting all his desires, for helping him to achieve his goals and see his dreams come true.

Being a conservative man, unemployed and disappointed, love for him was the last thing in matter. He was a charm middle-aged man, experienced and well-educated, something that seemed to impress both males and females in each company. He used to be ambitious and show strong zeal when striving for a successful life, but a sequence of bad luck events cut off his up going course. Drowning day after day in depression, he became grumpier and nervous almost about everything. His perspective was depraved by any signs of optimism or hope and he often considered himself as a loser. His broken wings, his lost pride were a bad advisor for his moves that usually turned against the only innocent and nevertheless sleepless guard angel of his life: his wife.

Like an over-pressed balloon she reached her limits and one day made her burst. She was no longer sweet and calm, patient or tender. An active volcano – that’s what she was – which erupted after a long time of tranquility, burning with its lava all around. Leaving their home, she destroyed almost everything: their common life and routine, his certainty of a haven, her hope of a change, their dreams. Only one thing remained undamaged: unrequited love.

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