t r e e

A tree…
There above my head, tall and embracing and old with experience and giving nature.
There stands the tree next to my window, talking to me this windy night…
throwing his branches at my window and asking for my attention.
And I stand naked in front of your power, oh tree.
And I will come, like last night and embrace you and cry in your arms.
And I will be aroused once again and I will call you lover…

And I will breathe in your moist scent and tighten my hug till my arms get numb and drop and then I will circumnavigate around you and play the indian game of my youth and dance and you will be like fire only warmer… hotter… melting me like a little candle that I am in front of sun itself, pouring me like gold to a ring mold amidst gypsum carvings, shining me up with velvet cloth and fresh spit…


Είδα το Fountain του Aronofsky και τώρα ακούω τη μουσική του Clint Mansell και θυμήθηκα ένα παλιό μου σημειωματάριο που το κρατούσα στα αγγλικά. Έγραψε κι ο Laughing Sheep ένα σχόλιο στο προηγούμενο post μου και με έπιασε κάτι που δε ξέρω τι είναι ακριβώς αλλά που σίγουρα ήθελα να βγει εδώ στο blog μου.