I know why the caged bird sings - Part II

Seaweeds were shivering around my sanded ankles, rampant waves were glazing my porcelain hips, the warm wind was slashing my fiery mane and I stood still…

I stood still, motionless, breathless watching its rusty nails sink in my skin. It came to me, slicing the sky’s silvered lining, raping the stars and braving the nascent storm. An emerald coat shone its wings, its eyes were colored by the deepest blue and its raging soul by blinding reds. It soared like a hawk and dived like an eagle, it came from nowhere but was heading everywhere.

I stood still, frozen, gasping, while it laid its head on my palm because in order to see it was necessary to become part of the silence. I tried caressing its glistening black feathers but with a look he begged me not to because the bird of paradise alights only upon the hand that does not grasp.

Suddenly I remembered.

I remembered the days when I was young and so were you and we used to light walls with our wild laughs and our faces covered with chocolate dust.
I remembered the deceptions, and the lessons learnt through the curves of this so called life where love = evol = evil = live.
I remember those nights I was alone, sewing myself back up, wiping my fears because life isn’t what I thought it was.
I remember the full moon setting in the sky full of lies as I felt shrugged an misplaced.
I remember the way the buildings looked lit by the light why I sat on my bed my head back down.
I remembered my falls and my rises, my won and sometimes lost battles.
I remembered trying to draw wings, to untie my feet, to free myself from danger but unfortunately to no avail.
I remember the sour feeling of powerlessness, unable to save a life, he, the one star today in my heart that keeps on burning so brightly no matter what.
And so I remembered all of this but it belongs to time's past. And so I stood still.

It stood still, its head laying on my palm, its golden beak on my fingers. Then, lifted its wings gently, brushed my cheeks and kissed my lips sliding back into my body, its cage.
My body was its cage, that deprived it from its wanderlust, its freedom.

The caged bird sings of memory, of “I remember”.

SN

YOUTH

YOUTH.

Some see it as an unending highschool diary, others see it as a sign of immaturity, but I call it being alive.

Youth, an unquenchable fountain that arises in each one of us. Fountain of impetuous imagination, unyielding emotions, ice cold courage, lingering desires and cravings for adventure.

Youth, a state of mind, a state of will, that goes beyond wrinkles, botox injections and face-lifts. Youth softens the wrinkled hearts and widens minds through achievements, passions, hunger for life and thirst for triumph and success.

Youth, an eternal energy that is only measured by faith, by your everyday morning smile to the sun, and the number of times you clutch the knob of your door and open on up to the world running forward towards a new day since each day dawns but once.

Youth is laughing out loud, running faster then the wind.
Youth is climbing over the walls edified by a selfish and hedonist society, breaking the bricks that held them, spreading them back on the floor, building reality out of dreams.
Youth is speaking half a language and half god, facing an unalterable reality and undefiabletruths and facts.
Youth is laughing nights away stabbing cynicism between the eyes and crushing the spines of timidity and self-pity.
Youth is rocking the fuck out of the world disturbing peace, running with mud stained clothes, screaming freedom.
Youth is being able to say: "I have already emptied myself. I kissed regret goodbye, took the hands of another backwards angel, and rode backwards into the rain". Anis Mojgani.
Youth is saying : “I’m fifty, already, but I feel younger than a rotten spoiled teenager, I’m fifty and forever young.”

Youth of today, Youth of tomorrow:
Dreams are feasible,
The life injected in your souls awaits you, begs you to discover its inner virtues and forget for a while its outer shell.
Design your prayers, your mottos, faith is your best ally.
Fall only to rise up again, higher.

The caged bird still sings, sings hidden behind the bars of my half-wrinkled heart. The caged bird sometimes sings of youth.

SN

I know why the caged bird sings -1-

I know why the caged bird sings.

All I do is vain.
All I do is worthless.
All I do is futile.
All I do exists not if I cannot fly.

Every once and a while I dream of Maya Angelou’s free bird that leaps on the back of the win and that floats downstream till the current ends.
So I try.
I try drawing wings
I try untying my feet
I try opening my throat to sing
I try freeing myself from danger
Unfortunately to no avail.

Therefore I think to myself:
Why is it so complicated to free myself from a cage built with bars of steeled rage?
It feels like I am lost in the middle of a self-made maze and that my mind, and my mind only, holds its key.
How to exorcise this beast in me that feasts on banquets made of my ideas, dreams and aspirations?
Maybe I should slash my dreams in pieces, throw them off to the sea, then jump off the cliff, catch them pieces, and mend them back together shaping them into a sword that would grasp light and destroy darkness.

Somewhere over the rainbow resides my kingdom. A “manowarish” kingdom built with thunder, fire and steel where Valkyries fly and Sleipnir rises from darkness.
Somewhere over the rainbow I’ll meet me. Once that happens, me myself and I will live in a castle walled with emeralds and guarded by lionesses.
Somewhere over the rainbow, way up high, I’ll wear wings.

Somewhere, under the rainbow, today I breathe.
I breathe in a world where the wild at heart are kept in cages.
I breathe in a world where the good die young.
I breathe in a world of ungratefulness and quenchless desire of wealth.

I wish in a world where
"But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing”.
I wish in a mad world.
I wish in a world set on MUTE.

SN