Fridge magnet poem, Ghiță Bordea

There once was a boy II, Ghiță Bordea

So the boy in the bowl the one behind walls he who felt lonely in the confines of himself, went to the very center of his space, he stood face to face with the now empty place where he first found himself someplace, where first he was anywhere. He looked at that dark lonely space that was in no way special or unlike any other space or slice or area of his jail, he then thought I am here and I am also there, but the me that is there can by being made help himself be free of this jail.

The boy did not see a change or a flash he did not tire he did feel any less but there in front of him now stood a thing of light and of translucent fibers that went out and around a small glowing star, it was a strange sight, it was quite weird for how could that be him when he did not look like anything at all?

There once was a boy

There once was a boy, a young quiet boy, a boy who was born with a great big soul. Now you might say “how can one have a big soul?” and that would not be a strange question, for you see this boy was very strange for his soul was the size of several mortal ones.

This was in fact a very sad thing, for he found that he was but a small tiny fish swimming in a great big bowl through the glass of which he could just see an exciting new world, something of color and smell and touch and feeling something made of joy and sadness and fun. The boy wanted so much to grow enough to taste some of these new things that he tried and fought to go to that place, to take a step over that edge.

He wanted to live so much that he jumped and he ran then tried to hit or to scratch or at least pass through that great invisible wall - if he could get passed he just knew that he would be able to hate that damn wall, and that almost made him sad.

You see in this place he was in, the boy could no more feel anything than draw a single breath in its waters, the only emotion he knew and felt then was something he would later call “loneliness”. He then had a thought or a thought came to him, he just knew that there was something he could do. He said to himself: if I now am and was not before and for now there is just me, then there can be some other me but a me that can help and that will let me see what is outside.

Moments

Cateodata Ghita ma surprinde cu unele franturi de ganduri care ma fac sa imi para rau ca nu am fost acasa cand a crescut.

"We will never be more alive or more beautiful than just before our time has come. In those few seconds we are all wise loving innocent creatures. Those are the moments when we stop seeing the point in lying to those around and to us. Those are the few precious moments when forces greater than us have done with their struggles. Then we are truly free."

Labirintul unui vis, Ghita Bordea

Am văzut prea multe bloguri în ultima vreme şi am rămas cu senzaţia că sunt doar o altă voce din mulţime, că scriu în van şi doar pentru nişte cunoscuţi care nu au altă modalitate să afle ce mai fac. Nu e o problemă dacă spui cuvinte care nu sunt interesante şi nu sunt ascultate pentru că cuvintele zboară. Cu scrisul parcă e altceva, scrisul rămâne.

O să las o altă voce, mai tânără şi mai entuziastă să continue pentru o perioadă, până când o să aflu din nou de ce îmi place să scriu.

Here goes:

Labirintul unui vis

Plutind adânc, poate lin, în al meu
Poate-n acest, poate veşnic
Întunecat, luminos ocean rece
Stau singur, da singur eu...

Privesc poate simt cum timpul trece
Şi mă mişc, da mă mişc
În acest loc ştiut, poate acum tainic
Da tainic, în sfârşit tainic
Străin pentru că acum văd, da văd
În sfârşit în depărtare, o lumina
După ea eu întind mâna, da eu sunt!

Eu sunt pentru că vreau
Sau poate vreau pentru că sunt.

Dar atunci aici eu singurul, sunt
Da, singur într-un univers
În neantul de după două pleoape
Dar iată că lumina
Prin a ei străfulgerare
Întunericul îl străpunge
Iar în spatele cortinei, e alta
Alt univers dar totuşi acelaşi
Aici eu singur rătăcesc prin ceaţă
Da singur, din nou singur

Şi acum aştept, da aştept
Aştept o lumina sau un fulger
Ceva care să străpungă încă o cortină
Şi încă una şi încă alta
Până cortina pleoapelor mele se va deschide
Da, până la urmă se va deschide

Iar dincolo de ea va fi o lume
Da o lume, în care eu şi alţii sunt
Unde şi eu şi noi aşteptăm
Da aşteptăm, aşteptăm o lumina sau o străfulgerare
Aşteptăm ceva care va deschide cortina unor pleoape
Da cortină unor pleoape, cele ale unui Creator.