Hari itu hari Sabtu. Dan, aku sedang ulangtahun.

Sepi. Hanya terdengar suara tetesan air dari keran yang lupa ditutup rapat di wastafel dapur. Desiran angin yang menggesek dedaunan di halaman belakang. Bambu angin yang bersiul di teras rumah tetangga sebelah. Jalanan beraspal yang kosong. Terpaan sinar matahari. Mangkuk beling yang diketuk penjual makanan keliling. Suara jarum detik jam dinding.
Dalam diam aku menunggu. Mahesa belum juga datang. Duduk di atas sofa, perlahan kulahap sekantung keripik kentang, suara iklan di televisi kini menjadi musik latar yang mengisi siang terikku yang sepi ini. Lupakan fakta bahwa kakakku, Mas Kekar, adalah satu-satunya orang yang mengingat hari ulangtahunku. Ucapan ulangtahunnya tiba tadi pagi pukul tujuh lewat pesan suara. Kalau ada Nenek, ia pasti akan membuat kue tar dan nanti malam kami akan duduk melingkar di atas meja makan, menyantapnya bersama-sama sambil minum teh lemon. Sayangnya, sekarang rumahnya jauh; di surga.
Tiba-tiba, telepon genggamku berbunyi. Satu notifikasi baru, ada satu pesan masuk. Dari Mahesa, katanya ia akan sampai lima menit lagi. Baiklah, akan kutunggu dengan sabar. Walaupun ia bilang akan menjemput pukul setengah dua belas ― aku sudah menunggunya sejak pukul sebelas lewat, sekarang pukul satu, dan lima menit lagi ia akan datang. Menghabiskan waktu seharian bersama Mahesa selalu menjadi momen istimewa bagiku, membuat jantung jumpalitan tak karuan, dan berakhir tersenyum-senyum sendiri setiap kali sebelum memejamkan mata di atas tempat tidur pada malam hari. Singkatnya adalah orang ini selalu membuatku bahagia, sadar atau tidak sadar dirinya, ialah sumber kebahagiaanku. Bulan dan bintang bagi malamku.
OK. Kubalas pesannya, lalu kubuka pesan-pesan lain yang mungkin belum kubuka. Tidak ada pesan lain atau telepon. Belum ada telepon dari Ayah ataupun pesan singkat. Entah kapan ia akan pulang. Entah kapan ia akan menyempatkan diri membuka kalender, teringat akan sesuatu, dan mengucapkan, “Selamat ulangtahun.”.
Aku berjanji tidak pernah ingin jadi orang yang hidup tanpa memiliki waktu.
Bel berbunyi dan pintu diketuk. Spontan, aku merapikan rambut, memakai tas selempang, dan bangkit. Kusiapkan senyum terbaik untuk menyambut Mahesa. Setelah pintu kubuka, senyumku langsung sirna. Mang Ijang, tukang pos daerah kami yang malah muncul.
“Siang Mbak Maura, ada tiga surat buat Bapak,” dia menyerahkan tiga surat berbentuk persegi panjang yang sangat familiar bagiku. Sudah berpuluh, bahkan mungkin ratusan kali aku menerima surat macam ini sejak lima tahun terakhir. Kubaca nama perusahaan yang tertera di kop surat itu. Masih sama seperti biasanya; bank, perusahaan listrik, perusahaan telepon.
“Tandatangan di sini dulu, Mbak,” Mang Ijang menyerahkan pulpen dan sebuah kertas tanda terima surat. Setelah kutandatangani, ia pergi.
Kubuka surat itu satu per satu sambil duduk di kursi teras. Surat-surat tagihan, seperti biasa. Hampir dua bulan rupanya Ayah tidak membayar tagihan telepon. Aku bahkan tidak berselera lagi membaca nominalnya. Aku menghela napas dan memandangi jalanan kosong di depan rumah. Kuputuskan untuk memakai earphone, memilih playlist di aplikasi musik, menunggu Mahesa di kursi teras sambil ditemani angin semilir.
5 menit.
Everything is Embarrassing – Sky Ferreira.
10 menit.
Please, Please, Please, Let Me Get What I Want – The Smiths.
15 menit.
Love Song – The Cure.
Dua puluh menit kemudian, Mahesa datang. Senyumku seketika merekah, walaupun ia terlihat begitu lelah. Kaos polo abu-abunya basah oleh keringat, dahinya dibanjiri keringat, napasnya terengah-engah dengan ritme yang tak beraturan. Aku duduk di sampingnya yang memegang kemudi dan masih bisa mencium wangi parfumnya samar-samar, meskipun tujuh puluh persennya sudah bercampur dengan semerbak peluh. Tapi, siapa peduli? Menurutku, ia tetap mengagumkan.
“Maaf lama, Ra. Tadi ada urusan penting yang mendadak,” katanya sambil memilih-milih saluran radio. 19.2, saluran radio yang khusus memutarkan musik-musik indie dan jadul. Mungkin ini salah satunya mengapa sejak awal aku tertarik dengan manusia yang satu ini dan berujung benar-benar mengaguminya, kami menyukai jenis musik yang sama. “Jadi, ke mana kita hari ini? Dan, akan mengobservasi apa?”
Kubuka catatan jadwal terakhir kami, “Hmm. Hari ini jadwal kita ke galeri seni kontemporer yang ada di sebelah balai kota dan pameran seni di hotel Metropolite. Kita bakal mengobservasi lukisan kontemporer supaya bisa membandingkan dengan jenis lukisan yang lain.”
Kamu benar, sesungguhnya ini hanyalah sekadar tugas kelompok bahasa Indonesia. Mungkin bagi Mahesa begitu, tapi bagiku bukan sama sekali. Kuanggap ini sebuah kebetulan yang ajaib. Kebetulan kami sekelompok. Kebetulan kami berdua sama-sama tidak masuk di hari ketika guru Bahasa Indonesia kami membagikan kelompok dan kami masuk ke dalam kelompok terakhir, kelompok sisa. Kebetulan kami memilih tema seni lukis dan belum ada kelompok lain yang mengambil topik itu. Kebetulan dua anggota kelompok kami yang lainnya tidak bisa diandalkan, yang satunya sakit berat dan yang satunya lagi sudah dikeluarkan dari sekolah sejak bulan lalu. Kebetulan hanya aku dan Mahesa yang tidak bermasalah. Maka, hanya kami berdua yang selalu jalan ke tempat-tempat untuk mengobservasi. Sejak saat itu, aku percaya akan keajaiban.
---
Semuanya berawal dari pertemuan singkat kami di minggu keempat kelas sebelas. Oke, ralat, bukan sebuah pertemuan lebih tepatnya, melainkan hanya aku yang memandanginya dari jauh. Namun, itu satu-satunya kejadian yang mungkin dapat memberi jawaban atas pertanyaan mengapa dan bagaimana perasaan ini bisa muncul. Bukan secara tidak sengaja dan spontan seperti yang biasa kau dapatkan di adegan jatuh cinta pada film-film romansa norak, tetapi adeganku sederhana, penuh kehati-hatian, dan perlahan.
Kelas sebelas adalah tahun yang cukup sulit bagiku. My dad was busy more than ever—well, until now dan itu tahun pertama Mas Kekar menginjakkan kaki di dunia perkuliahan. Dia diterima di salah satu universitas negeri ternama di Bandung, jadi hanya pulang ke rumah setiap akhir bulan. Aku punya waktu sendirian di rumah dengan jumlah yang berlebih.
In that year, my friends left me. Ghia pindah ke luar kota dan Kalista bergabung dengan anak-anak populer sejak mendaftar sebagai anggota baru di tim pemandu sorak. Kami hanya makan siang bersama pada beberapa hari di minggu pertama sekolah, setelah itu dia selalu dikelilingi dan menjadi bagian dari kelompok cewek-cewek pemakai lip tint merah dan seragam yang dikecilkan. Aku mengerti, barangkali dia memang menginginkan posisi itu sejak lama dan citra dirinya memang melejit pesat, membuat semua leher anak cowok melirik barang beberapa detik setiap ia berjalan di tengah koridor. Lagipula, jika ia sudah mendapatkan status sosial yang sangat hebat itu, mana mungkin dia masih mau berteman dengan orang sepertiku? Maura, the average one, yang selalu mendengarkan musik lewat earphone, yang lebih banyak menyantap bekal di dalam kelas pada jam istirahat. Aku hanya masih tidak paham bagaimana seseorang yang semula kau kenal bisa berubah menjadi orang lain secepat itu.
Tapi, hal lainnya yang cukup melegakan di tahun itu adalah aku bertemu dengan Indira. Kami berkenalan pada hari Senin di minggu kedua kelas sebelas, hari pertama dia masuk sekolah setelah seminggu penuh dirawat di rumah sakit karena DBD. Begitu melihatku duduk sendirian di baris paling belakang, dia buru-buru menghampiri sambil bertanya, “Sebelahmu kosong?”. Sejak itulah kami berteman.
Indira dan teman-temannya biasa menghabiskan makan siang di bangku koridor lantai satu yang menghadap ke lapangan, bukan di kantin. Walaupun secara harfiah aku bukan salah satu bagian dari kelompok pertemanan mereka, Indira selalu mengajakku bergabung dan orang-orang baik itu rupanya menerimaku.
Di bangku koridor itu kali pertama aku memerhatikan anak laki-laki yang bermain bola setiap jam istirahat kedua. Hanya ada dua-tiga orang kukenal, itu juga karena mereka teman sekelasku sekarang atau di kelas sepuluh, sementara selebihnya orang asing bagiku. Di antaranya ada yang berperawakan tinggi, rambut tebal, rahang yang tegas. Aku hanya belum tahu siapa namanya waktu itu.
Selanjutnya, aku bertemu dengan laki-laki itu di kantin, sedang duduk bersama beberapa cowok yang tidak kukenal, tertawa lepas. Mungkin karena aku jarang ke kantin, aku baru melihatnya di sana waktu itu. Pada acara demo ekskul, aku melihat dia lagi. Bermain bass di atas panggung. Anggota klub musik rupanya. Pemain bass. Pada hari-hari berikutnya, aku lebih sering melihatnya berjalan di koridor depan kelasku, kadang sendirian dengan earphone, kadang ada beberapa temannya. Anak kelas sebelas juga rupanya, jurusan IPS juga. Hari-hari berikutnya, selalu kutengokkan kepala ke jendela setiap kali ia lewat di depan kelasku. Aku penasaran, kenapa mataku tidak pernah melihat orang semenarik dia sebelumnya? Dan, kenapa dia hanya muncul di tempat dan saat-saat tertentu, seperti saat istirahat, masuk sekolah, dan jam pulang? Hari-hari berikutnya, berpapasan dengannya membuatku senang sekaligus semakin penasaran. Dia anggota klub fotografi juga, aktif, sering memimpin rapat anggota di kantin sepulang sekolah, dan ternyata karyanya banyak dipublikasikan di majalah sekolah. Dari situ aku tahu namanya, Mahesa.
---
“Geser ke kanan sedikit. Bukan, bukan, sedikiiit lagi. Sedikiiit, oke, pas!”
Sebagai dokumentasi, Mahesa memotret beberapa lukisan dari berbagai angle dan beberapa kali memintaku untuk berpose ala-ala tak sadar kamera. Tentu saja aku pasti bersedia, selalu bersedia. Dia juga merekam keadaan sekitar dalam bentuk video, yang katanya, bakal dia edit menjadi super artsy.
“Percaya sama gue, kita bakal jadi tim paling keren yang menghasilkan dokumentasi paling berseni, Ra,” kata Mahesa sambil tersenyum sendiri melihat hasil jepretannya.
Destinasi terakhir kami—pameran lukisan yang sedang digelar selama seminggu di hotel Metropolite—akan tutup sepuluh menit lagi, tepat pukul tujuh malam. Setelah terakhir kalinya Mahesa merekam keadaan pameran dan beberapa pengunjung yang masih melihat-lihat, baterai kameranya habis. Sebelum pulang, Mahesa bilang dia tahu tempat makan enak di sekitaran sini. Jadi, kami mampir untuk mengisi perut dengan soto ayam dan berbincang-bincang sebentar, setelah itu baru benar-benar pulang.
Di perjalanan pulang, derai hujan turun perlahan. Karena rumah kami terletak di pinggiran kota, jadi kami harus melalui jalan tol atau kalau tidak, akan lebih jauh. Mahesa memencet-mencet tombol radio, mencari saluran nomor 19.2, tapi setelah mendengar acara yang dibawakan penyiar radio, dia langsung mengganti asal saluran radio yang lain. Saluran radio yang menyiarkan lagu-lagu pop kekinian yang sedang hits.
“Sekali-kali dengerin genre lain, ya, Ra,” katanya sambil menginjak rem. Jalanan seketika padat merayap di depan kami. Mungkin karena hujan mulai deras, jalanan mulai tergenang, orang-orang mengemudi dengan lebih hati-hati.

(bersambung.)

Setiap tarikan napas
Satu hembusan
Aku berhutang

Setiap langkah kaki
Satu jejak
Aku berhutang

Seribu
Seratus ribu
Satu juta
Berjuta-juta rupiah
Aku dapatkan
Aku pun berhutang

Hutang yang kekal
Hutang yang indah
Hutang turun temurun

Pada mu
Pahlawan ku
Aku berhutang
Berhutang kemerdekaan
Berhutang kebahagiaan
Berhutang persatuan

Pada mu
Pahlawan ku
Aku berjanji
Menjaga Indonesia
Membanggakan Indonesia
Untuk membayar
Perjuangan hebat mu

Masih kubayangkan seperti apa jadinya aku apabila suatu saat aku benar-benar bisa memiliki dia. Mencintai dia begitu dekat. Sedekat tarikan napas dari setiap udara segar yang aku hirup di pagi hari. Masuk ke dalam paru-paru. Kemudian bercumbu di sana.

Benar apabila aku memang sangat ingin bisa memiliki, segala hal yang mungkin tidak pernah bisa aku miliki.
Begitu naif apabila kita sedang belajar mencintai seseorang.
O wajahnya. O matanya. O hidungnya. O pipinya. O bibirnya. O rambutnya yang panjang tergerai jatuh di bahunya. Begitu jelas, hingga mimpi seperti realita.
Dia begitu jelas terlihat. Dia begitu nyata, bahkan kurasakan sesuatu berdetak begitu cepat dan kencang, seperti angin yang menyibak rambutnya.
Senyumnya membuat segala yang hancur menyatu kembali, tetapi tidak, tidak untuk setiap kali.

Aku masih mencintainya, begitulah cinta yang semestinya aku akan katakan apabila memang dia benar ada di sini. Tetapi dia tidak di sini. Dan aku tidak bisa mengatakan bahwa aku mencintainya.

Dia begitu dekat, tetapi juga begitu jauh. Dia jauh dari mataku. Dan dia begitu jauh untuk bisa merasakan perasaanku padanya.

Menuju malam sabtu, lagi lagi aku menghela napas

Melihat caramu menatapku, itu membuatku sakit
Mendengar suara mu saja aku muak
Bagaimana kau melangkah
Bersenandung kala di motor
Menyapa mereka yang kau bilang teman
Memuakkan

Kau tau? Bahkan saat menggenggam tanganku, rasanya seperi kau mencekik hatiku
Sesak

Kau; Tertawa hingga berurai air mata
Aku; Menangis tanpa melepas air mata

Kau lihat kan perbedaannya?

Apa memang aku yang harus bersakit?
Apa aku layak menerima ini?
Apa yang sudah ku lakukan di kehidupan sebelumnya hingga aku mendapatkan rasa seperti ini?
Tolong jawab aku

Parable Hippeis above the eared: “Kanti; Hussar of aristocratic steeds, being from Crete, he was broken down from the servants as a possession of the globalized high lineage of Thessaly and Argolis. In the front Paraseno of him; He ruminated on the psychic frontality of not being defeated by the mere fact of being defeated as an extension of his defenselessness as if stating what he was not capable of winning in what he defeats a Hippeis when he has greater stoicism than I love him of the owner. Therefore he was destined from the Krepis or Crepidorma to the number of Gold or Golden. Dividing from all the other paranasal sinuses, by less than the base of the skull of it by the length and factorized by Pi ()

In the sphenopalatine Paraseno of him; the outer colonnade, in equilibrium and eurythmy or harmony, was provided in the order, optical correction and rational geometric construction, with the parameters of the Parthenon as the spheno ganglion of the ribs of the Peripteral Octásyle, which surround the colonnades of the expiration frieze, exhaling Zeus for vibrational anti-seismic integuments and neighs of the Hippeis, like Kanti exorbitant and convulsed.

In his Maxillary Paradise; subdued in the architrave of the lower part of the entablature that rests directly on the columns. Its structure functioned in its serving lintel, to transmit the weight of the roof towards the columns, and duplicate the basalities of the pontificate of the Samarians horsemen of Orondel

In the parasene dorsal turbinate; in a Metope, it occupies part of the frieze where the Doric entablature of its classical building would rest, located between two triglyphs. As a metope decorated with bas-reliefs, on the taboo cliffs of Samaria and its horses in the neatness of Hippeis blood.

Middle Paraseno; in the Stylobate, towards the upper step on which the temple rests, it will be part of the Crepidoma: on a stepped platform that raises the building above the ground level to give it enhancement and greater presence. As a middle echelon to the majors of the final grand echelon towards the Koelum, which unites them in its golden horsetails like blood-green horsetails.

Of the Ventral Paraseno; In the Opisthodomos, as a distinct space located at the back of the temple, the special vestal element is attached together with the Pronaos (or portico) and the Naos (or sanctuary). Here they take refuge for the snout and their cheeks, full of Pleiades evading the hunter of Oarion, each one decreed steeds of Crete and Samaria, which shine the transition of the oceanic foam that runs naturally in high tides, and in the exalted pause and erogenous, tempting an Aphroditism.

And finally, the super Paraseno or Chamber of the Canephore, ruling and ruling the priestesses of Baal with the steeds of Orondel, for the purpose of sacrificing the sacred courtesans with their hooves that were sacred in Stylobate, which was esoterically diffused. Pro the Canephores reigned alongside the Vestals, for dichotomous bustle with Hestia between fires and bonfires, which will pour out the mysteries of Eleusis.

They had their six Parasenos separated from their septum, de numen that in other castes they gifted the hubbub that came from Samaria in the reign of Israel, being a Hippeis of the Elite Greek cavalry. Of the farms of this region, one hundred years after the Syrian ******* in this same analog, Kanti was destined in the drafts in the pastures for agricultural work, attached to all the Philistine plains. A plethora of exuberance with liters of the pinkish vine, which, in the face of the long-awaited of some, plucked from branches by the snouts and sulfur of the Cinnabar, already entrenched in the presses and in combat of implicit rows of vines burnished by the thickness of its sulfurous secretion, opting for the lush, grassy tapestry.

In Thessaly, Kanti stood out with his supremacy of water seed, which raised surplus rain when the Mediterranean droughts rocked them from the gargoyles on their similar steeds. In the sagittal of his hoof, under the "U" all the Hippeis of Thessaly were marked with the Vox of ππεῖς, but not those of Samaria, they planted their fourth ends on the ground in the Deuteronomium; “He became passionate about the lovers of him, whose meat is like the meat of donkeys and whose flow is like the flow of horses. Thus you longed for the lust of your youth, when the Egyptians felt your breast, caressing the ******* of your youth”. Following this way Kanti with his chronicles warned that in their limitations and privileges, they did not excavate the selected strings of vines when he had to loosen their hooves, which were made of fire and steel from the bars of Hephaestus, by order of Etréstles, who relaxed from the agrazones, letting the sweet potatoes of their grafted plants levitate towards the clouds, which burst those esplanades in hydrometeors of tested sweat on their thick legs browsed by the song of their prayers and their thorns that broke their spiky washdown, fighting a duel in the cumulonimbus, which lavished care in which they settled before the eyes of the Hippeis foeman’s, where the vines did not ferment like the wine that does not have a vent and that makes them burst in new wineskins. This is how he triggers the patience of the gifted steeds of Samaria, towards new winemakers who would receive him for a grape harvester, who would carry other species of olives for a new millennium.

The credibility deposits did everything on their millennial steeds and genetics, to be more efficient and fruitful, for all the things that Kanti did not step on at the same time in all the Cyclades, Dodecanese and Messolonghi as Hippeis of Thessaly, but if from the Orondel perspective; which was the duplicate of Kanti Samaritan, holding in times the weight that it will bear together, in tons and in more than a thousand oil presses that exceed what his body mechanizes as horsepower, thus being able to lighten in the prunings of other regencies, which do not shake or shake the branches above Zeus's cups and his grind that does not expectorate or pulverize the best without its terrace.

Here where the trees used to grow, they grow in the orchard on the outskirts of the town, Kanti frees all the steeds of Samaria with their gravel on their rubberized hoof, mining the lands of the kings and digging the valuable napas more than all the heritage of the fruit trees, more than in a fifth year together with all the seas, to make them those that are in other uncircumcised ones, for the reward of those who hide from early taming and their spiky work. The gleaned in Thessaly were of forks that in the same cereals were gleaned from those that stopped feeding and mounted on a fable of grass of a rustic sewer and in the fallow farm laborers. The spikes did not fall, the Hippeis with Kanti gathered them with their limbs, legs, in the provinces of harvests dragged in sheaves of the Corsicans and their censers of Epha, like a gold rope and incense of Sheba, who thus brought expansion to Judah and praise to Yahweh. Epha describes the land where the dromedaries come to Israel: "A multitude of camels will cover you, the young camels of Midian and Epha." Kanti lashes out with the Hippeis imprisoned in Midianite lands, before being subdued and not released as new leaders of the Incense Route in the spurge beds of Bethlehem, with delicious practices inherited from Ruth, reaping barley, oats, and wheat in the same stampede of the Hippeis commanded by Kanti, beating barley, in which an Epha cultivated the Firstborn of Grasses of Thessaly "

(Procorus said: “in the defeat of the Persians by the Greeks, in the naval battle of Salamis, in 480 BC, marked the beginning of the decline of the Phoenicians' maritime trade, here the East was totally extinguished when Alexander the Great took Tire in 332 BC, incorporating Phenicia into the Hellenistic Greek world. All the knights that were from Thessaly were the entire lineage of Hippeis de Kanti, with Samaria germs from Chambers of Canephores)

Parable Hippeis above the Eared One: “Kanti; Aristocratic hussar of steeds, a native of Crete, was broken down from servants as a possession of high rank from Thessaly and Argolis. In his frontal Parasinus he ruminated his psychic frontality of not being defeated for the sole fact of being subjected prolonged in helplessness, and stating what he was not capable of winning by defeating a Hippeis when he has imperturbability prior to a master. Therefore he was assigned from the Krepis or crepidorma to the Golden or Golden number. Dividing from all other paranasal sinuses, by less than the base of the kraníon by e long and factored by Pi ( ). In the Paraseno Spheno Palatino of him; the exterior colonnade in eurythmic balance or harmony was provided in order, optical correctness and rational geometric construction with parameters of the Parthenon and spheno ganglion of ribs of the peripteral octasil, surrounding the arcades of the expiration frieze, and exhaling from Zeus the anti-seismic vibrational integuments and neighs of Hippeis, like Kanti exorbitant and convulsive. In his Maxillary Parasinus; he was subjugated in the Architrave of the lower part of the entablature that rests directly on the columns, its structure worked on its servile lintel, to transmit the weight of the roof to the columns and duplicate banalities of the pontificate of the Samarios horses of Orondel. In the parasinus Turbinate Dorsal; a Metope, occupies part of the frieze where the Doric entablature of a classical building would rest, located between two triglyphs. Like a metope decorated with bas-reliefs, in taboric cliffs of Samaria and its horses in neatness of Hippeis blood. Medium Parasinus; the Stylobate, towards the upper step on which the temple rests, forming part of the crepidoma: on a stepped platform that raises the building above the ground level to give it prominence and greater poise. As a staggered middle to the largest of the great final step towards the Koelum, which joins them in their golden edging of the Equisetum like horsetails with green blood. Of the Ventral Parasinus; In The Opisthodome, a separate space located at the back of the temple, a special vestal element is attached together with the Pronaos (or portico) and the Naos (or sanctuary). Here they take refuge for the snout of their cheeks full of Pleiades evading the hunter of Oarion, each one in decreed steeds of Crete and Samaria, that shine in the transition of the oceanic foam that runs by its naturalness in high tides, and in exalted pause erogenous temptation to an Aphroditism. And finally the super Paraseno or Chamber of Canephore, governing and ruling the priestesses of Baal with the steeds of Orondel, for the purpose of sacrificing the sacred courtesans with their hooves that they consecrated in the stylobate, which esoterically became diffuse. Pro reign in the Canephores along with the Vestals, for dichotomous fajina with Hestia between fires and bonfires that will spill from the mysteries of Eleusis.

They had their six Parasenes separated from their numen septum in other castes that super endowed the confusion that came from Samaria in the kingdom of Israel, being a Hippeis of the Elite Greek cavalry. In the farms of this region, one hundred years after the Syrian ******* in this same analogue, Kanti was assigned to openwork in the meadows for agricultural work, adhered to all the Philistine plains. Plethora of exuberance with liters of pinkish Vine before longed for by some, they tore from vine shoots by snouts and Cinnabar sulfur, already encysted in presses and battles of implicit rows of vines burnished by the thickness of their sulfurous secretion, decanting on the exuberant and grassy carpet. In Thessaly Kanti stood out with its supremacy of hydric seed that raised a surplus of rain when the low waters of the Mediterranean rocked the gargoyles on their similar steeds. In the sagittal of his hoof, below the "U" all the Hippeis of Thessaly were marked with the Vox of ππεῖς, but not those of Samaria, they planted their fourth ends on the ground of Deuteronomy; “He fell in love with his mistresses, whose flesh is like that of donkeys, whose flow is like the effusion of horses. He told himself... You longed for the lust of your youth, when Egyptians touched your breast, caressing the ******* of your youth. Continuing in this way Kanti with his chronicles warned that in his militancies and privileges they did not dig select strings of vines when he had to clear his hooves, which were made of fire and steel from Hephaestus bars by order of Etrestles, who distended his agrazones, letting him levitate towards the clouds with the sweet potatoes of their grafted plantations, that burst those esplanades in hydrometeors of tested sweat on the thick legs browsed by the song of their prayers, and thorns that broke their spiky washdown dueling in the cumulonimbus clouds that lavished care that settled before the eyes of Hippeis foremen, where the strains did not ferment like wine that has no vent and makes them burst into new skins. Thus detonates the patience of the gifted steeds of Samaria, towards some new winemakers who would receive him for a grape harvester who brought spices and olives for a new millennium.

The deposits of credibility made everything in their steeds and genetics of a millennium, to be more effective and fruitful for all that Kanti has not stepped on all the Cyclades, Dodecanese and Messolonghi at the same time as Hippeis from Thessaly, but since the optics of the Orondel; who was the duplicate of Kanti Samaritano, bearing ten times the weight that will make him bear together in tons and more than a thousand oil presses that exceed what his body mechanizes like horse power, thus being able to lighten himself in pruning of other regencies that he does not they shake or shake the branches above the tops of Zeus and his molar that neither expectorates nor pulverizes the best without his terrace. Here, where before the trees grew, they grow in the orchard on the outskirts of the town, Kanti frees all the steeds of Samaria with his gravel in his gummed hoof, mining the lands of the kings and digging up napas valued more than all the fruit-bearing heritage, more than in a fifth year along with all the seas, to make of them the ones that are in other uncircumcised as a reward for those who hide from early taming and their slender task. Those gleaned in Thessaly were from pitchforks in the same cereals that gleaned from those who stopped feeding them and assembled in a grass fable of a rustic sower and fallow farm laborers. The spikes did not fall, the Hippeis with Kanti collected them with their extremities legs in provinces of harvest dragged in sheaves and corsican censers of Epha, like a rope of gold and incense of Sheba who thus brought enlargement to Judah and praise to Yahweh. Epha describes the land where the dromedaries arrive in Israel: "A multitude of camels will cover you, the young camels of Midian and Epha." Incense in a sprigs of Bethlehem, with delicious practices inherited from Ruth reaping the barley, oats and wheat in the same stampede of the Hippeis commanded by Kanti thrashing barley, in which an Epha cultivates the Primogen Gramineae of Thessaly”

(Procorus says: "in the defeat of the Persians by the Greeks, in the naval battle of Salamis, in 480 BC, marked the beginning of the decline of the maritime trade of the Phoenicians, here the East was completely extinguished when Alexander the Great took Tyre in 332 B.C., incorporating Phenicia into the Greek Hellenistic world. All the horses that came from Thessaly were all of the lineage of Hippeis de Kanti, with germines from Samaria and Chambers of Canephores)

Parable Ad Libitum Ex Varna: “In the lower and upper parts, a certain anti-demonic air carried a Kerí towards the candles of the Procorus rituals, extending the Eurydice ship that came from Rhodes. On the floor of his cell he had some Tamarisk branches such as Tarayes that vanished due to their quality when they expired at his own monk's feet to become lasting in his Oikodomeo, to raise with the Taray the essences of re-transformation of the lexeme of conventional greenness into Patmos, very deflowered in periods with high untemperances only with some secretions in which Procorus felt the re-flowering adventitious from there and then in the anemophilous advantages of the winds released from the belly in sedimentary veins of Rhodes. In its alchemical anemophilia or movement of inseminating winds, the subtle soil vanished with the force of the Sulfur Lion that derived from the Cinnabar with the Anemoi wind that impregnated the Tamarisk capsules, under the acolyte's feet. The aquifer of the water table of the subterranean waters in Patmos, remnants were scattered so that in Pro Nobis they lay of their demonologies, sponsoring Persian magics of the Lid Post-Gaugamela, with themselves in the Ex Varna with iridescences re-transfigured in the Mount Tabor. Says Procorus: “This Tamarix or Tamarisk has poured limits of our Oikodomeo, to re hold the superficial plate and reuse itself in the absorption of the burning under my feet, forcing them to readapt under the ground scorching concentrated in the Cinnabar residue, carrying the dermal prototype towards the saturated bottom of the salt larvae that prevailed in the pummeled beam of their skill, in some bundles of Tamarisk showing themselves innocuous in the imagination of the cloister suffocated right here by some Chaldean tribes, who felt like the illusionist stand of Ex Varna” . In the compaction of this epic hyper-fantasy, his urge was born from the consecration of the Gift of interpreting the subtlety of two-dimensional variety that would appear up to this moment, beneath the layers that were contaminated out of nowhere by the mere fact of the whim of the augur momentum, which finally it is restricted in the morphism of the Katapausis and chamber of San Juan Apóstol, finally supported by layers and blankets of subterranean aqueous filters towards a restructuring of the plane of Euclid, and towards the vicinity of plantar pedestrian zones of Procorus that were already three-dimensional in the construction of the Oikodome, for the foundation of the Náos or temple, which would go crazy when the Hexagonal Progeniture arrived to build the Vernarthian temple with gifts of multi-construction purgatory for the Oikos in Dwelling of the social unit of Aquarius or Aqua spirits that are terminates at the end of Capricorn dehorned. In mutual edifying peace between both zodiacal proximities of the Oikodomé, here every day specters purged and rubbed in the archetype of the Megaron that was intended to beoblations and in votive links in the massages that the manes of the Vernarthian universe gave them in their spiritual mortar, reconverted in their eternal brawl for living in the friction and brown partitions of the bloodless Megaron to inaugurate it as a solid bastion, in the weak regions of the Hetairoi that cellularly, it snatches energized vitality from their extremities, with total imbalance and wheezy guards maneuvered on their feet, dragging themselves towards the karmic Saetas de Velos Toxeumas and unharmed Dorus. But feverish and threatening their integrity when they were falling and plundering the Euclidean edge, opening up from the designs of the Hellenic palfrey, becoming parametric of Kanti's paranasals and spatiality that would surround the Parthenon of Fidas, with Ikríomas or scaffolding that made them collapse from their coordinates with Mamdilaria and Agiogitiko wine baths on the Vernarthian body between the column of the Sabines and Greek colonies of Lacedaemonians from the 4th century BC. C., already entwined in borders of synchronicity from the Erechtheion, falling from the Caelum, close to all his teachers who helped him install the final tiles of the temple, next to them intoxicated with Nepenthe, by intense vine rain stómas in the silent afternoon of the Inter-Cosmos of Athena, sending them the poison of Velos Toxeumas, a priori… and before attacking any skin that wants to revive itself in the inoculated Vernarthian dreams.

(Procorus, manifested himself solid in his loneliness when seeing that Lacedaemonians and beings of the night accompanied him, in contrast to the dark light that allowed him with a single candlestick to expand more inaccessible in the semi-glyphs in the grooves of the Megaron that shone synarchically in the plans of the new Monastery of Saint John the Theologian) ..

Parabola Megarón Dódeka Spathiá: “Procorus perceptibly saw how the sky of Patmos was crossed by heavy metalloids of bronze, tin and acroballistics; for the cavalry of Kanti and six Para Senos appeared, who used to ride on the roof of the Megarons belling to the sounds of the acroteras. In these episodes in twelve Swords that were multiplied in advance by thousands before the Megaron began to be built. In relevant dimensions and virtual foundation lines, acrostics of steeds from Thessaly on their palfrey mounted Polish Winged Hussars, carrying twelve wings of cuirasses with twelve horsemen, adjoining the halo of heavy cavalry in Katyn, being abducted by a circum-regressive parapsychological Ellipsis of the 1939 event in Poland. Each rider was strung in blood with golden wing feathers. In each of their hands they carried the curved saber Szabla, to cover up the unspoken target of oppressors and musketeer intruders from the armory hearth of the hypothetical enemy-unknown but outsider, assaulting the flanks of the rooftops in the Virtual Megaron of Patmos, using Kopias or pikes that schemed in the impetus of deadly resistance of the betrayed ancestry. The roof that pointed to the south west reflected the light of Orion by aerial forms of the Aegean choir, riding on the high seas with Votive offerings or offerings of Cyclamines and Red Poppies, hovering in majesty in their nomadic obtuse compass of Rhapsodas coffering epic elegies of the Megaron and of those revived venerable triumphs that stretched out on the banner of glory and bed of epiphany. Rhapsode proclaims thus: "In Katyn Wings of Golden Wood and Red Poppy, they adorned themselves with Bellis Perennis in twelve thousand rags in our steppes harassing their moan in blood wars, framed in large sections on the threshold of their mounted war. There were twelve thousand red poppies burning on the executory pilaster near Smolensk.” How much is there to get fed up in the Polish cavalry of the 17th century, that upon glimpsing the barbarous sounds of the temple that approached them to the altar of the Virtual Megaron, showing off in acquiescent ceremonial and counter-revolution of lifeless aristocracy in needy portals-living and mortal-living who posed in the rear of twelve thousand officers slain in the Forest of Katyn, such gentle medieval men in the contemporary untimely invasion. Here in this place the puffed winged horsemen went by destiny when they were sacrificed, like steel cushions they galloped on their heads sheltered by brotherhoods of Hussars that protected them with Lion and Tiger breastplates with retracted claws. Procorus, observed in the virtuous imagery as medieval winged specimens, protected the frontispiece of the Megaron in bullet-ridden super-existence and a trance of historic architectural dread. Here on a Patmian soil, each one of the officers was aided by each 17th century Polish cuirassier with ferocious wings, they were making them agonize with honor and glory, with those similar twice right there of their resemblance, with misty discrepant blood interwoven, executing on apocryphal witnesses who covered themselves with your looks, of overflowing evasion and truce of bodies stained with mourning and despair, with blankets of red poppies scattered adjoining a naive unarmed forest. Over exalted memorandums and secret cries of Adrastea procreating their kind with the nymphs, they drowned out the cries of cuirassiers like Didaskein, before sobbing in their topic, but of Pashkein in the foliage of rotten hopes, of those who hit them from behind, in analogous vexation to heroes of Katyn. Here neither Cronos nor Mother Rhea heard them, only Adrastea prevented the cries of the men-children who were atoned for behind their backs, from venting them from the foliage of the Didaskein-Pashkien, in tears of solid mercury. Kanti's steeds rise, carrying them the curved Zsabla sabers, before each is shot in the head as twelve thousand Winged Riders are caught in each Zsabla. These sacrificed them before they were killed in the waist of his head, not being expired by ammunition but rather by sabers of honor and glory of their own winged protectors, who would lead them by sharp weapons towards the holocaust of the Mashiach surrounded by red poppies. “The red and steamy cendal of the forest carried the souls of the Hussars to pass them through the sabers of their compatriots, before they were immolated by the Soviets, so their apostolic souls will be catechized by Zsablas of dyed airs of Red Poppies converted into air of respite from the heroes of the Katyn Forest, redeemed by the Golden Winged Riders of the 17th century”

(Procorus in the immensity of the voices and epithets that were heard, differed in the volatile and explosive metal sabers at the present time that were extinguished in their crooked armor and in Polish beings, in a rear that finally Procorus settled them in urdes of immaculate habit, suspended in twelve thousand Red Poppies flanked by his forehead before being shot from the cortex and occipital lobe, forging into golden sabers and cenobitic transvestites who received them in arms in the sublime stench of effluvium of their blood and hosts, never left and desisted from bubbling by the figures of the acrotera near the Megarón, ditto in the same Forest of Katyn, surrounded in a string of Rosary that dazzled in Procorus prohijando them)

Parable Fourteen Donítikos: “fourteen vibrations were polarized in the enthronement of Vernarth towards his brother Etréstles, making filial gradation in possible anti-filial conception of worship and death in who is suspended from one to the other under the condemnatory rhythm of past lives. It is typical of the facsimile of his own genetic shadow Cain-Abel, but of geomorphological gradation and time-space, which finally brings them together as blood relatives of the same Orbis Alius trunk. Dismissing by not accessing a vibrational anti-Asur (as a healthy creative mind in Genesis) as an energy that manages to restructure itself in any homologous way in the world of Asur as the son of Shem in Genesis..., as comparative and intergenerational mythology , enlivening socio-parental metaphors, pronouncing in cohesion and enchantment what happens in another similarity of gender or Mental field, staging the probability of a mental Sun that dies in a Super Man, and this comes to free us from the ties of existence and plane terrestrial not reflected of immanent and instance of Eon, in geological and sidereal lives. The scrolls of this semi-myth, is subsequent to hanging scrolls on the will of us existed for thousands of years linked to links and human characteristics of knowledge through professed and comparative feeling. Compensation of material distemper between the anti-pivot and life between both refers to the simultaneous undividedness of each specification as a phenomenon lacking hearing in winter and inclement periods. Here the outburst of retro involutions becomes cloistered in Menatira, daughter of Cránae, Queen of Eleusis Pro Eleusis tally fuzzy from the convulsing breath of both through the steppe of silence, both of them. Dodecahedron on an octagon in each one for each one that was interpolated in each area when Demeter was looking for his first-born Persephone.

“Etréstles metamorphosed, so that Metanira reunited them with the sub-mythology of their destinies and the preconception of the elucubrar of a final breaking of the abstract spell, which was mixed with the element of vehemence in their irascibility to wait for a next season in fourteen toasts followed by Ouzo, and goods with intact and distant deities in oscillation of life-maturity, making it after the eleventh Ouzo in determinism of autonomous eternal substances of the ritual of Elusis, appreciable power and coarseness of the one who has to compensate for the one who has everything and the that will never have it. (Eternal Life Spell)”

a) Abundance of rain of red blood cells, in quotation marks of the legacy of Bios as all deprivation of life file, rather for those who yearn for it between a physical trifle alibi...

b) Psujé for Vernarth, “For whoever wants to save the life of his soul, he will lose it”. But he will restore it if he is saved by divine psychology muscle."

c) Zoé, “radiosity and refraction of etherization and physicality, more than a biological physical body re-transformed into purging from the superior to the inferior multi-created, but in a Jesuit adjective and sphere of consequent concatenation towards the plane of the

Mashiaj as holistic of the human cave ecstasy, in inflexible marriage between heaven and earth Ad Aeternum”

(Procorus, auto-irrigated red blood cells, to deliver them both, and relevel the levels of red blood cells of the Mashiach's divine blood, which expected to be refounded in both brothers of the Vibrational in Fourteen Donítikos or Hellenic Vibrations, with the initial D in the lower left ear and the S in the upper right of the vibrational field of the Tinnitus of God, with their ears placed in their hands, take them by their ossicle and from them in the curvilinear dawn that vibrates in what He only wants to do to them Dodeká).

Aku menciptakan bingkisan berbentuk hati,
membungkusnya dalam rusuk rapat melengkung
agar tidak ada celah sedikitpun untuk kesedihan itu terlihat padamu.

Puisi-puisi kita pernah menjadi hadiah untuk duka dan luka yang samar-samar,
lalu air mata adalah bentuk kebahagiaan itu sendiri.

Kita adalah kado untuk perayaan perpisahan di tiap hidup seseorang.
Awal kita adalah degup jantung kencang yang membuat rasa penasaran,
sebelum akhirnya napas kita tersengal-sengal.

Aku melangkah di jalanmu, terukir dalam batu. Di mana sungai-sungai retak dan keheningan berdengung. Lagu pengantar tidur terus menghantui, membungkusku seperti kain kafan. Bisikan-bisikan membusuk dalam kesunyian, tersisa di udara seperti rahasia yang terlupakan, sementara keputusan menggantung di kehampaan—mayat-mayat cahaya.

Panas menggigil menyiksa melalui tulang punggung gurun ini, tebal dan menindas, saat bayangan terus menggeliat, tertawa dengan kebencian yang membekukan. Kau telah lama menghilang—bertahun-tahun, mungkin selamanya—ketidakhadiranmu adalah luka yang tak kunjung sembuh. Tak ada tangan yang mengulurkan jari untuk menenangkan langkahku yang goyah, tak ada kehangatan untuk mengikat pikiranku yang berputar-putar, dan beban ketidakpedulianmu menekan, mencekik seperti aku sedang berada di kuburan.

Jika aku menutup mataku dan membiarkan diriku larut dalam kegelapan, apakah itu akan membangkitkan sesuatu di dalam dirimu, atau kau akan tetap tak tersentuh, seperti selama ini? Langit ini terasa seperti kaca, rapuh mudah pecah, dan siap hancur akibat kekosongannya sendiri. Sementara bumi di bawahku setipis bisikan, siap menyerah. Pernahkah kau benar-benar ada di sini, atau kau selalu gagal untuk ada, sosok yang menghantui sebagian mimpiku yang hancur?

Pemenggal kepala menjulang di depan, janji yang tak terpenuhi,  
takdir yang terasa hampir manis, ujungnya yang tajam seperti panggilan sirene. Aku berdiri di bawah nya, pucat dan kaku. Besi dingin itu memanggilku, dan aku bertanya-tanya— jika aku menerima kejatuhan ini, apakah kau akan menyaksikan akhir, atau kau hanya akan berpaling, acuh tak acuh terhadap kegelapan yang menelanku bulat-bulat?

Kau tidak hadir di tanah yang tandus ini, tak mengucapkan sepatah kata pun untuk menghancurkan kesunyian yang membentang tanpa henti. Hanya gema tanpa suara dari ketidakhadiranmu yang ada melalui kehampaan, pengingat tanpa henti tentang cinta yang tak pernah ada. Jika aku semakin terperosok ke jurang ini, mencari pelipur lara di kedalaman keputusasaan, akankah aku mendapati dirimu menunggu, atau akankah ketidakhadiranmu bergema lebih keras, mencekik napas terakhirku?

Aku telah menelusuri debu tempat jejak kakimu terkikis,  
tapi bumi di bawahku berputar ke dalam ketiadaan, rusak oleh beban yang kau tinggalkan. Jadi di sinilah aku berbaring, di reruntuhan yang kau buat, di bawah tatapan dingin langit, terjerat dalam kesunyian yang kau jalin, di mana waktu berhenti, dan sisa-sisa harapanku memudar ke dalam jurang.