Sunday, 9 August 2015


If distance is all you know
of every street and every road
of every life and the relations before
then deny me not for even your denial
is so distant and unsure.

I'll imagine myself sitting
somewhere not so dark, blurred
and I'll stare with a strain 
towards a sky, blurred as well
i'll be crossing a river
for the thousandth time
never the same river
and those waves
emerging from the unknown
i'll watch them passing intimately 
but always dissolving, along with my stare
in the distance.

why is there distance
between what we see and us
that inspires or exhalates who we are
that feels so near
yet it appears
miles and miles
very short miles

when moving on the concrete road
along the unconcrete life
I search for the most distant tree 
that I can see 
for a simple reason
that I don't know
or perhaps I am not watching that tree
but the distance between those indistinguishable leaves 
and myself
if I am unaware
unawareness brings me to watch the distance
but being aware, I see a distant tree
the distance somehow is different, 
with the tree in sight.

If the stir of longing is your only reminder
your only memory
your only nostalgia
your only picture in the distance
your only frame in the sky depth picture
then blame me not
for looking for you
where you are not.

An iota of distance is reflected beyond
of what exists behind the eyes

there is distance in the eyes that see.