Despair. You write to me at random. You cry to me for help! I can not do anything for you. You already have your religion, your path is traced, you already have your shepherd. You have your pastor, your soul-mate, your smuggler.
You came. You were naked under your little clothes, sang Polnareff. It was yesterday. You were unborn. Are you born now? Still not, I think. You want to be admired while you are mistaken. You screamed help me! Have you read this article about it? Nobody can do anything for a girl warrior. Nobody! Except herself. Love your wings. Fly.
You want wild life. But you confuse sheep, goats, chickens with free animals. Your head is crazy but you do not want to cut it. Bank unknown. The island is bare. You are lost. Without any goal. No Exit.
Until your thirst is quenched you flooded me with mail. Until your hunger is fed. No longer eager. Nothing is worth anything. Lousy life makes you feel bluesy. You blame yourself. As you approach the porch, you get off, and you suck, lamenting lame. It is crystal clear, dear. Ride your quest, jest your pride. Stop it all. You will be ready soon. Patience.
You have toiled a long time on the paths, on the summits, on the downs. In countries of loneliness, trazcking the monster of Loch Ness, you have got enough. Penitent aries, you have rubbed your forehead on the higher rock. For a long time you cheated, lying to yourself, destructive, stubborn, damn battered ram. Then you stopped. Time has stopped. The lover did the same. His obelisk is well erected between night and day. Between two lives in the crush of nothingness, leave yesterday behind, see the lover coming.
This dream also collapsed. No time to frolic. You have to fly. Nothing can withstand the tidal wave. Long live the demariate! You’re choking out of yesterday’s water. You go back there. Make your prayer to Santa Heat. Keep the beat. You drown, be saved. Jump out of the wave. Accept your rave. Be tough and brave. Do not wait for any help. You’re still in the world, but you don’t belong to the world. Patience, friend, time is coming … Feel your thirst and hunger, the appetite coming back. It’s already good. Very good. Breathe!
Give you to eternal love. Patience. Act upright. Patience again. Always. You run. Your past is over. The wind ! Your world is almost dead. You bite. In the action forward.
Fuck all and everything is a promising start. Then you have to fuck yourself. Abandon you. Get rid of the little master. Blame the lame. Refuse ego.
Initiation? It is leaving this world of miseries to choose the other world. I left this suffering world on July 10, 2010. I passed the other side at 61. I wanted it for a long time. But the intention of the warrior is nothing without the help of the almighty Intention.
No one stands before it, supreme Intention, a force that goes, an inhuman witch who leads us, draws us, sows us. It manages our lives. It decides everything for us. Humility. Sobriety. Submission. Acceptance.
Active waiting. You will go to the other side. Row again. Strive to death. Move. Mute. You do not expect anything from your actions, but you make your point of honor to continue to act. Patience is de rigueur on this path of pain.
One day stops the horror. You stopped the world. You erased your personal story. Gossip, gossip, nothing to beat. What is the opinion of others? You see they are crazy. All as much as they are. You’re still alive, but you’re out of the world. Patience, it comes …
But you, bowl flush, you broke quickly. Incandescent, indecent, innocent, you took the tangent. The common man is no longer your citadel. Out of the haughty fort you rise, you dream. Under the gaze of your soft eyes the horizon recedes and widens. You have chosen the spirit, you have turned to the light, the material things follow you as your shadow. You are alive, more than you have ever been.
Nobody can do anything more for you than yourself. If you love yourself Remember that we harvest what we sow. If we love each other. Theorem. Beyond blasphemy. The pillar of the poem is hoping for a fourth. Forget him. Forget all three. The narrow. The path goes straight. You’re a believer. Yet you do not believe it.
You will find your double. Breathe. You will love yourself.
Hard hard the mature turn: goodbye youth. Hello sadness … Rejoice and enjoy, you do not have eternity to start being. Hail your sail in the wind. The future is ahead, do not look back. Seek the soul and negotiate the blades. Against the wind you row, galley, you’re crying. Forget your desires, your contempt, follow life, flee hatred. Perish in the fire. Your child has grown up. Wake up.
Become the one you are from all eternity. Initiation is so. Simply. Here. Become yourself. Your heart is not an island. Your story is not bad. Spend your vril in the eternal April. We must try to live elsewhere. Another way. A brand new day. Close the crying tap. Empty the drawer with resentment. It’s easy. But how difficult!
I love you little sister. Join me without fear. Your path has heart.
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