The sky is immersed in a wonderful display of the variety of blue,
some left over cloudy speckles here and there,
and the sun sweetly greets the world
while the earth is soaked in an impression of dawn.
I am standing amog the still brownish trees of my heart,
and covet this sinlge wish.
The same one that made overcome this eternal winter of fears,
doubt, solitude and expectation.
I should send it off to the air,
let it join the lost birds,
or drop it to the earth to take root.
But dreams and wishes are not stable enough to be left in the world.
If I were a writer, I’d write up the most beautiful world for you.
If I was but a little stronger, things could be so different.
If I was just a little girl, you’d be able to take me by the hand.
If I had found the idea to keep you a little bit earlier.
If I was all different…
If you had found me years ago,
If you’d seen me in my worst dream,
If you had but one idea to build me,
If you could rid yourself from this image of me.
If we were all different.
We would certainly make the world tremble in its foundations,
rip away the masks, see through the acts and jump the last ship to eternity.
If we simply were not the cast outs we are.
We would build a new world for us.
A paradise of truth and sun.
A time lapse where the now has no more sense
than the passing of a cloud.
And when all the ‘what if’s, the ‘would’s and the ‘only’s
have dissipated amongst the last blades of grass,
I’ll get up at last and move back to the world.
Without you, but with one last laughter in my ear…
(for L.-)
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