At the foot of my bed
At the foot of the bed
It has just arrived the moment, she knew it. I could feel the fragmented parts of my soul came together like pieces magnetized seeking peace. As were annexed, my life took on other dimensions, like the pieces of a puzzle without box you don´t know what will the final drawing.
An electronic energy field altered, more from Uranus than from Being, was deployed around the room, giving me the power to choose again. However, there was no mind to silence, the effects of the drugs were familiar to me and surrender to the madness a it was already a reality.
I reminded Beatrice, her image flew in my bed. I saw her ethereal, smiling, similar to that of the saints, covered for the blanket of calm aura. Her eyes took me with the hand to a Wednesday March in the rain turned into fields of ice and alchemy of my garden evaporated. That Wednesday March by the hail, I gave up. she is no longer felt her life and in my veins ran rivers of ink black as coal. I understand now; I stopped being me.
Beatriz showed me the stars, the sky drew and showed me the magic of forgiveness. I only hit upon to befarme of her love of archetypes, mythology and to laugh at that Mars conjunct the Moon in Cancer symbolizing, according to her, my downfall.
“The fight,” she repeated, “the fight is fear, lack of faith, love”. If I had realized that who struggled was with me, if I had glimpsed that I had become the arcana of the Hanged and my existence was reduced to suffering, if I had focused my energy into something other than destroy, perhaps the pain would have found a small hole to escape. However, this tended bed, limply, non, there is no room available in my body where nail guilt. The only thing left is the responsibility. A responsibility eager to change their slumber for ten thousand sunrises studs first. A late worthy responsibility of the wisdom that gives the Plutonian transformation and Neptune implore you want another sea of clouds to swim.
I wanted to go back, but had not gone to return, be present where no future to look forward to. Everything had melted into one. I knew it; He had reached the end.
I turned my eyes to the window shut myself. Incordiarme really came to sunlight. What clearer proof of folly! And could not, for harder to put, to see the world. I could only imagine it, think about it, but no taste. The room had become my wailing wall, where my troubled spirit sought a ray of sunshine to illuminate him through a window boarded up with his own hands. Cause and effect, karma, law of attraction … Deep down I knew what to call it, but being at war with me, also was it with God.
Beatriz … What a woman! I wish I had listened instead of hearing it. I wish I had bowed to his Venus being able to leave my sword aside. How many ojalas!
I refused to believe in fairy tales, in cheap philosophy that tasted freedom, life would not be as easy as so that it can dream. Today I know that in my one-way street, took the direction I felt like coming to the same conclusion, but with regret, torment and distress. Prostrate in this bed, in the clear end of my days, I realize that there is no good or evil, victims or executioners, mistakes or successes. Today I know that is chosen, that what seemed false deceptive chimeras were not. Not being pursued or sought, it is created.
At the foot of my bed a hooded black shadow holding in her hand a scythe, confirms that lost me another chance.
Copyright © Dácil Rodríguez - All rights reserved.
Dácil Rodríguez
Dácil Rodríguez
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