“ DO NOT GO GENTLE INTO THAT GOOD NIGHT ”*

It’s obvious, everything we can name has a beginning and an ending, then a rebirth. This is the circle of life. And death. Too often, the oblivion of the only immutable thing in this world leads us to the fucking despair thought that we are immortals, insanity or pity, I do not know. But according to that thought, we attend no changes at all. We want more, always more. And more.

Too often, we forget that even matter, in all possible meanings we can expect, is nothing more than a state at a distinct point in time, and it will never be the same. Even those words and thoughts are already in the past. One day, all this knowledgeable universe will be different. I also am already different.

A new circle will rise, with the violent power and destruction of creation. Violence and evidence move together in that endless dance, touched by this light, calm and comforting ageless gaze of centuries. Tenderly. With parent’s patience. Sweet taste of time in my mouth.

Everything begins at the brutal end of this old world of ours. Dance, turn and flip and then, side-step. Slowly, days drop, months spill all around us and from this side-step, a new beginning grows. The humanity balance shakes, water drops on our cheeks pray for our expected future which is no more.

Stumble, flip, trill, in the night,

Song of hopes and glories,

Rise, cry, lie, in the light,

Dark thoughts of stories,

In the beginning, this chaos. Fear, numbness master the end of that circle we knew. Dragged to the bottom of the dark waters.

My mind drowns deep and deeper.

My eyes stuck on the ceiling, my body dislocated, we watched each other. Again, darkness overwhelms me. In that forever dark, well awake, in that moment, I realize, feel it on my lips, time dripping.

Without warning, war explodes, my mind blows.

What a foolish child I am. I can’t go back to those happy naive bubbles of dreams of my childhood. Where my world was only night reading, mountains of books who built most of my memories. Utterly sleepless were my nights stuffed with imaginary stories, my memories still taste sweet of those nights where time was nothing at all. 

What a foolish adult I am. The definition of yearning still echoes in my head. Longing for a kinder time, where all good vibes surround me, liberty, kindness, let go. I crave for it. Everytime I open this door I am desperately crawling for pieces of it.

Today, the drowning is over. I dive deeper and deeper.

Books surrounding me, one after another, eat me alive, or do I ? Without restraint, for sure. The Internet is a fertile ground, spoiled by my craving for more. For oblivion and mercy, I’m looking for even more, to fill that giant gap inside me. Always more. Every time I quit this devilish state it’s harder, the way out is always a little more far away, the desire to go back is far more persistent. 

Passion, obsessions eat me. This is war.

I am an addict drugged with imagination, dreams and idealization. Hard stuff, where no precaution is needed. I can eat, fatten, fill all my soul with every kind of universe, every story and tales, I can not fear the overdose. The lack of this drug doesn’t even exist. No withdrawal symptoms, nothing’s wrong as long as I stay in those dark waters, eyes filled with fancy colorish and false pictures, mouth full of glitters and magic. I am a fantasy addict.

The struggle goes on. Lines blur.

Suddenly, I am naked. Alone in the dark.

Only the unknown in front of me. I am no longer split. There is just… me. Me fighting for my soul, trying to understand what kind of human being I am. This is just me in all my duality and fogginess. Today, nothing else matters but this quest. 

Only my next side-step.

Into that good night.

*Dylan Thomas