On a walk companioned by my Muse along the sylvan meadows
We wandered away to delightful realms in unclouded ambience
Don’t know how long I rambled warming my fancies in sunset fires
Must be for long, all lights were out, the quiet hamlet lay bathed in sleep

Above  me, stood the starry firmament and the half hidden moon
Could see the vast plains stretching before me in moonlight, bare
My heart was flooded with joy, my fancies took to wings
Got drowned in Nature’s serene calm, my spirit lost in drunken ecstasy

In the gentle blowing breeze, the leaves twittered and murmured
All else was quiet and nothing disturbed the serenity of the night
But soon I knew the East wind strengthening around into a gale
And across the moon I could see stragglers of clouds moving past

I sat on a rock, lost, so lost staring into the clear night sky
Wondering how the celestial joy, made manifest by the twinkling stars
My thoughts began floating like a ship over the briny waters
And my temporal settings faded away like a cloud in the horizon

From the nearby woods, I heard the song of a lone night bird
In rising cadence, alone and aloud it fell on my rapturous ears
Was it a nightingale that poured forth that dewy delight?
Was it the same song, Keats heard long ago cascading from the woods?

      With my Muse in this unearthly hour let me sit awhile in this solitary bower
To my paper, let my fancies in unbroken crystal streams flow
Wonder if I can rightly recreate the image that my thoughts enfold
How I wish, I could like Coleridge, build a pleasure dome in mid air!

Sometimes I have thoughts I should not have.
This kind of scary thoughts.
The ones you don’t want anyone to know about.
The ones that make you look around in order to make sure that no one can read your mind.
As if someone could have, just at that particular moment, that particular power.
But you have to make sure that nobody is looking strangely at you,
Because even to a stranger,
It is delicate to admit that this kind of thoughts crosses your mind from time to time.
I don’t know if I like those thoughts.
I don’t know if, because they are the product of my mind, I should be attached to them.
I don’t know if they are really mine,
Or if someone is speaking through me,
As if someone was trying to reach me, to come in contact with me.
As if these thoughts made me special.
But they are still scary thoughts, disturbing thoughts.
And you know they don’t come from nowhere
You know they have a purpose in your life
You know they have a reason to cross your mind and disturb your peace.
But you can’t throw them away because they are yours.
And you have learnt to cherish what is yours and only yours,
What can’t be taken away from you.
So you keep them with you, in your back pocket,
And you pray for them to stay in there and not to scatter
Like little ashes made of fire, still hot and untouchable, but fascinating.
These are the thoughts that come to haunt me whenever the silence surrounds me.
They keep me company.
But they are scary, because they can make you think about things you had never thought about,
They can make you see yourself in a different way,
They can make you feel invisible even for yourself.
That’s why I can’t help but fearing those thoughts.
Because they have power.
And they won’t hesitate to burn.

Souffle.
That means breath in French.
And many other things that I can’t describe.
That means that I am in peace.
That means that I have the right to exist
Just because I, too, breathe.
I, too, am alive.
I, too, can speak for myself.
I belong to the living ones.
I inhale.
I exhale.
I breathe.
That long expiration,
As I close my eyes,
Is the only proof that I exist.
That’s why this word might be my favourite
Because thanks to it, I have the certainty of my existence.
That’s a short and soft word
With a deep meaning to it
And a deep meaning to me.