The Saturday Day
“Well it’s saturday” Should it have been different if it were to be Sunday or Friday. Maybe or maybe not, but I’m pretty sure, it couldn’t probably change the way I feel. Lots of things have changed since I grew older, it seems they are changing everyday, every hours, every minutes, every seconds and every milliseconds. It’s just that I’ve not been able to grasp the morphs. My life has been like a murky evening all the time, I don’t know what the gloom is for, or why it has been a part of my existence. “Oh tiny life, I don’t think I hold you, it seems to be more like you hold me” And the nebulous gloom is so attached with you life, that it’s like your inborn organ. Life, the murks don’t bothers you I know, but me it influence every tip of me. It’s necessarily not like I hate you, or it’s necessarily not that I like you, it’s something deeper. And our relationship is far more complicated than its seems to be. Sometimes I think, I’m so poor of words, there are so many words and their unfathomable allegories, then I can’t describe your properly. But I know you’re sometimes the uitwaaien that I can feel in the thicket near of my own ocean, and you’re sometimes the moaning leaves in the summer wind, and my life it’s resonance in my little canopy. You’re that thin rain in the winter, my life the hearth where I slumber a winter sleep. Sometimes we seems vague but the more vague I feel the more clear you starts to look. Hey murk, you hold that tiny light, I know and I’ve seen it. That’s the reason I’m alive, and even in this gloomy Saturday, I can see the light that you holds, that’s why I’m watching you with the intense gaze. Sometimes I feel, even if you were stark dark, I would love you the same, because I don’t know anything other than you in my life, and I’ve been never near to anyone or anything other than you. I bet you gloom, you really gotta pretty face, like the beautiful girls in our city with curl in their lips and same intensity in their hips. But I feel I can’t even compare you properly with anything, because there exists nothing that I can compare you with.
So, dear gloom I’m hoping for a short rain in the middle of winter and spring, and you’re the one who could help the day hail the rain. When it’s sunny, I feel I miss you, but then there you’re. You’re not getting what I’m trying to say do you? That’s Ok, I won’t mind. Anyway it’s Saturday day and I’m with you since the morning. Reading some books, and feeling you. You’re some sorts of beauty of the sky, when the rain clears the fog, and you’re kinda orange color of the rainbow that I adore, but you know I really hate you.
Thank You! For More: Painted With Words