I remember the frozen streets
they forced my soul to warm even the light …
wanderer without a confidant
wanderer without support …
the city of fairy tales is a dream
the city of fairy tales is magic …
prisoner between divine lights and mortal illusions …
kite of a bird that does not fly
clothes the doubt of the intellect
obstinate in dispersing the exact light
does not recognize compromises
remains true to its mission
the key to stem it
it is precisely in circumventing it
surprising even themselves
the choice is made at the last moment
sonorous and dreamy
are the waves of autumn
without the anxiety of summers
without the din of the bathers
they are the horizon of the unknown
they are the mystery beyond all limits
where vastness and lightness meet
where the universe and the monads are eternal twins
I’ve always dreamed of flying
I’ve always had nightmares of falling
I seem to be the suspended athlete of a certainty
and I appear the speaker chained by a doubt
the stories branch into falsehoods
they rarely get out of their legends
they say icarus flew too high
outside the plane the fire freezes
is there a father of the sound medium?
or does eternity also bury nostalgia?
after all there are the unconscious remakes
in the end there are the inevitable repetitions
the means exasperate the ends
and the ends cloud the horizons
beyond the soundless space a music routs
beyond the monotonous infinite a sound carries
masks veiled from themselves
they touch borders outside of reason
like eyes without a face
how you sound without a creator
masks without a synonym
verging on the direction of the senses
modesty of a sex never exposed
grace of a dream never imagined
sculpted by the wind
and cutlery for the benefit of the author
in the desert they are geometries of enchantment
on the beach they are miracles of refreshment
unique in the velar the glimpse of the sea
they are preparing for the abode of a Frankish king
whispering a mystery like the dark sea
where the pirates brought them the fatal fate
What is confidentiality if not life expired from a personal watch?
What is the exhibition if not the life punctuated by a public sundial?
The digital world annihilates the secrecy of our day
the digital world borders on the intimacy of our thoughts
we are no longer free to think
we are no longer free to act
identities given to the best tyrants
lives extirpated by the best sailors
Oriental dogmas What do the eyes of the East scrutinize?
What do the yellow faces of the east smell mystical?
they fly over the times without chains of unmistakable
lands dominate spaces without historical
identity complexes unaware of the Pillars of Hercules
heedless of the Elysian fields
faithfully doubting fate unconsciously
persuaded to the signs of the case
Twenty past seven You never have to wait for the perfect time
and one must not believe that it is always the right time
what can unhinge the factions?
what could frighten the irreverent?
never think that a home has perfect foundations
always hoping that a dwelling is involutionable to everything
sooner or later a storm will come and sweep everything away
what will sweep even when we are only the memory of this land will come
° BLOG ° Gabriele Romano 