Out of windows overused
into the rounded distance
where time does not stand still
but swarms in coexistence
of all things past and present
of youthful thoughts –
that never really come or go
relentlessly they slide on waves,
the memory’s tetchy ebb and flow.
And as the grown-up mind
flies dreams at half mast
you gently push away the veils
to see them come undone
into explosive streams of rust.
Hey, I have just read about you on the blog and I really liked your idea, although it is probably a lot of work for you:) Hopefully, you enjoy it and get all the beauty you can from it.
I’m sending one of the poems I wrote recently just in case you might be interested:) There are some more on http://memorybazaar.wordpress.com, some in English and some in Romanian. The verses I’m sending now refer to the feelings that travelling triggers, namely that purgatory or world of the inbetween, where people are no longer their usual, ordinary selves, where they reunite with all their former selves into a form of energy rather than anything else. This is not a concrete, terrestrial phase, it does not have a clearly defined body or face, it is a luminous place of memories, experiences and dreams. It feels like a personal mythical time capsule that spreads energy into the being and gives some sort of substance and sense to an otherwise fickle existence. And since it makes it easier to understand with the help of a picture,
Hope you’ll enjoy it and best of luck with your project!