He used to live alone,
shelter from lies and deception
limited desires, needs
colossal plans,
an untamed river,
knew the value of emotion
which the east has
on a wild, treacherous peak,
a raging wave in the open sea,
in the moonlight,
won, in freedom,
without ever asking
not even accepting crumbs,
that was flying at him
She, the one who is not, the one who does not touch me,
the supposedly cultivated,
She remained, as always, indifferent,
away from the facts
to calculate interests
to dream of honors
to hide the indecencies of her life
to hide behind fake smiles,
to count loot and trophies
mocking his otherworldly world
the one who was struggling
to create,
the completely new one.
Hers, blatant
in vanity, arrogance and perishable idols
the desire for guilty pleasures insatiable,
having lived the most of life,
That's how it was meant to be,
That's why her eyes, eyes of envy
bloody,
They set traps, lustful glances
in ephemeral images
they were glorifying by redeeming
together and always
in vicious words of flattery
at best,
when it was not contemptuous
without ever giving explanations
for what she, alone, pretended to have forgotten.
He was approaching fifty.
when he admitted the end of his marriage,
childhood summers
nailed to the tips of the fingers
"change your misspelled life" voice of reason
standing in the wheat fields
as he half-closed his eyelids
The dreams returned incurably,
irrevocable decision
secret consultation
the inner homeland
rough touch of the wormwood.
Golden ears of corn in the midday sun
they danced with the meltemi,
was approaching
the time of harvest,
He watched them lean on the ground.
pregnant,
one to worship the earth
the other to rise into the light
calling the wheatears and partridges,
and at nights
when the moon lowered its sickle
He knew it, as if from birth,
how are the ears of corn?
They dream of death and resurrection together.
Stretch out your hands,
two birds flew
from the apple tree's backbone to the wires,
sometimes at noon
only love is on duty
even if it's in a flutter,
is where sin stands out
from virtue.
Within his palms
the young fruit,
the soul surrendered
in the plunder of nostalgia,
here, in the wilderness of the ancestral landscape
danced
with the Korybantes
in the threshing floor, Pentozali,
yes, everything that is born dies
but inaction oxidizes
the anchor of the mind.
The ancient vein
thrown at the throat
in unprecedented peace
the three Fates bent over the ears of corn
testing in the capsule
swath,
hands, destinies,
two steps forward
his mother, in red,
mythical gathering,
the unknown destination
suddenly it became a road, familiar,
is that life has not forgotten to spin,
is where betrayal changes vision
even if it's late.
The truth was gripping him,
I am overflowing, redeemed.
carve a consonant capital
and two vowels,
Zoe,
on the waterless stone, correct
the unconfessed,
had preserved its root,
"he has no more postponements", he may have whispered it
a tornado passed by
with insane intimacy the touch on the shoulder,
"Mistakes are always useful"
He didn't even have to say goodbye to her.
she,
a firework in his mind.
Tomorrow, in the name of love
Life of Diktao
Corfu July 15, 2024
