In the sleep of the light of time
On the wood chimney. I placed a lamp. To shine, remember me you. It will not be enough. However, it is all that I found. Because, I know that I will forget. The memory of you. Your words, your eyes, your ideas. All that there was in you. I would not like that is unobtrusive. But, it is thus, I cannot nothing make there. Each day, a little more, we move away one from the other. They was front, it was yesterday. Today, we have nothing any more but one past. It is what joins together us. At the end of the night. In the sleep of the light of time. I want to remember you. As if they were front.
Lire la suiteI aspire to it
I like your idea that a tree can flower a whole life without never dying. I like this idea that a life can not have of end. I had not imagined it. I had not dared to think it. That certain trees can be touched of a divine finger. This idea comes from deepest from your desire. Carrying your grace of the impossible one. I aspire to it. Scenting futile petrols, if fragile. Inaccessible. Flowers swept by the wind of the summer, struck by the breath of the winter months. All around the tree, it has only joy and misery there. He remain right, beautiful and proud. Until the end of the mystery. Of a life without dying. Your idea. Is it of you? I aspire to it. Do you have the power to offer it to us? Does the blood of this life where nothing die out? The complaint of the sheets damaging itself on the shroud of the autumn. The moaning of branches torn by the storm. Do you have this force to be able to act? For all to slow down. Before the bells of death do not sound? I aspire to it.
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So much waves came to die
Close of us, so much waves came to die at the edge of the beach. On this cold sand of the winter. Who does not have any more the old one. In the silver plated night. Of a starry sky. With the fresh wind. Come to sweep our practices. In a soft prelude. At the bottom of this enlightened castle. Drawn up at the bottom of the beach. Illuminant our meeting again. After all our battles. We became wiser. Like the storm. Of these foaming waves. Menaçantes. In the distance. Who lose of their force while approaching the end. On this sand that us fullers. Where, we, we find. After so much of drifts on the scum of our storms. It was yesterday. It is not so far. I have it still at the head. I am not if to trust. Of these quarrels without end. With the bitter taste. With the futile heart. For a hell. Useless. We, we are stray. But, this evening, close to us, so much to waves came to die at the edge of the beach. Recalling Us by their complaints. With our fears. Erasing these letters of our evils. That we had traced. On the sand of the beach. That a wave of a last blow of kidney. With known to write the word of the end. So that finally we find ourselves hand in the hand.
Lire la suiteUnder the white light.
I expected you under the white light. That which lights the ensign of the household linen. There, where you told me that one day we would buy ours. I did not believe there. I did not show myself it. You had the right to dream. To tell me all these projects which you made. For us, our future. They was good to hear them. You were in peace. I listened to you. We were so well. That was enough for me the morning. When, I came to join you, that we walk hand in the hand. I knew that you could for one nothing ignite you. A character of fire. For a word of too. For a contradiction. Contrary to your passion. As yesterday. Where I was the wrong to contradict you. To like, it is also to have the right all to say. Without retaining itself. I thought it. You did not accept it. However, there were nothing bad. But, for you, it is not as that which that was to occur. To love you. It is you to wish. At the point to sacrifice its ideas to honor you. I did not do it. I expected you under the white light. Knowing that you would not come. Too much proud. I remained. Nothing to regret. The store was closed. Letting the white light flood me. In the reflection of the window. I saw my sad mine there. Above, the ensign of the household linen. There, where you thought that we could, one day, to buy ours. I know now that you will come there with another.
Lire la suiteAt the end of the world
At the end of the world, there is a cold lake. It made cold there. The wind blows constantly. Without sun. Only a sky. Carrying clouds with the frozen tears. I came there to know. To tell you.To go to the extreme to impress you. I know. It is stupid. I wanted to walk on banks of this forgotten lake. To seek in the ices the reflection of our last years. To look at to remember us our desires. One speaks about it sometimes. With the faith of knowing to laugh at it. For better sweeping the wrinkles incipient from the lapse of memory. It is our world. Who flees with the end. Over there on banks of the frozen lake. There I came to walk. To catch up with these years which made us vibrate. To bring back to divide them, all to start again. At the end of the world. I brought back, for you and me, the force to believe in us for ever.
Lire la suiteThe light
Go ahead, enters the light. Would not be timid. Do not redden to be yourself. Not very assured. If frightened. You are you. It is already so much of things. A smile, pretty blue eyes. Long hair. So many desires.You see. I see you. Go ahead between in the light. Tell me your words. Launch out! You have the right of it. They will be beautiful. They come from you. Fragile. Soft. Go ahead between in the light. It is there. It will not be burned. It will equip your silhouette. Will be your first conquest. That of this combat which you carry out against you. Then, go ahead between in the light. Until me. Break the chains of your timidity. Release yourself! Beyond you. Always curled up. To doubt. I do not have pity. Right this need to shout you. Enter the light.
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J'aime ce qui est gothique, ce qui est romantique, je vous présente mes textes et mes photos. I like what is gothic, what is romantic, I present my texts and photos Steffan Urell
