It felt like testing a drop of Paradise.
Whilst talking to her, my soul healed.
We understood each other to the point of despair.
Sat on a small table in the courtyard of my parents’ home.
So much gratitude could only end up with the sweetest kiss.
It felt only natural wanting to touch each other’s lips.
No other desire.
It was pure love.
The one which asks for life.
Suddenly I woke up.
It was the perfect dream.

Thoughts race swiftly
As I clock the miles
At the wheel of my car.
And the road more and more resembles
The purgatory of my life.

I atone for past wrongs,
For what never came to be,
And fool myself with plans
For a future already set.

At the next station I’ll fill up,
Refresh, and refuel.
This is life: a constant journey
Toward new horizons, broken up
By stops and setbacks before the goal.

Once I arrive, the holiday begins—
Another chance to reflect
On where I went wrong
And how I might do better.

I’m already preparing for the return,
And then I wonder: when will I
Finally enjoy the never-ending holiday?

No more time for queuing,
No more time to wait,
No more time to listen — in silence.

Always in a hurry,
Always under pressure,
Always needing to fill
The void.

Shortcuts set the new rules:
Quick wins that **** thought.
I must remember
The beauty of thinking.

Too much noise surrounds
Our lives — and we surrender
To the pressure to deliver.

The new real is unreal.
This new baroque age
Dictates the rhythm
Of our days.

Let’s call a social lockdown,
Pause — together —
And challenge the old fear:
To climb without falling.

Don’t have anything more to prove.
No more fighting, no more battle.
I’ll just wait and see what comes next.

How many questions I have asked,
How many times I stood back up
To please myself, others, and God.

An endless and desperate search
For the paradox of a perfection
Belonging only to the Creator.

And guilt returns, right on time,
To pluck the strings of soul and reason.

Now the greatest challenge is
To stop the instant, live the moment.
To learn the grace of contentment.

But as an eternal malcontent,
I seek a chisel to carve
Peace into the rippling wave
Of a soul in storm.

Not a smile,
Only dismay at yet another
Wretched day
Spent serving ambition
And the god Money.
Smoke and alcohol to ease
The pain of withered lives
Awaiting the final meeting.
Someone else will reap
The fruits of your legacy.
Will it be enough to make them happy?
And I recall
The smile of that man,
Empty in his pockets
But with a heart overflowing.

And now? Who knows…