12-11-2002

 

   

The strange, weird evolutions of the night

staring at the Moon, up on the roof - dreaming and weeping...

 

The day is dying, the Moon is rising, and in my pain I'm diving. It really does

not matter, it is an obscure stream of consciousness, it's cold, so cold, and my

heart seems to be lazy, I love being so hazy. I saw you crazy, dead and

crawling, sweeping to the top of the mountain, I can distinguish no colour,

no feeling, no pain, no joy, no man and no woman, nothing ordinary tonight, just

me and the mighty Moon watching me, spying me, seducing me, making

love to me. Falling into me. A rape, under my eyes, is about to come. A new

victim is about to be taken to Hell, where demons and witches wait for their

meal to have. A raging beggar is creeping along the dirty, murderous streets and

I can do nothing else than staring at him, for a very little while, expec-

ting him to be found dead by a policeman the following chilly, dark morning ....

dirty life for a dirty existence, a silly man having been with silly women

after having lead beautiful dreams of eternal visions, now a mere memory of what

could have been but never been......... Loud, strident rumour of a flat tyre

zig-zagging from left to right, then from right to left, now to the centre,

now... to... a huge, overwhelming wall... now from life to... death...! The

ambulance syren screams its sheer drama, while this night is to send its very

last goodbye to the disillusioners and disilluded, to those who have fighted,

those who have died in name of glory, those

we will never see anymore, those... only those........ and only me, keeping

listening to the rain heavily falling to the ground, I hear you but you can't

hear me, I can hear the desperate crying of a young lady just been left by his

lover... her own tragedy, in a night full of tragedy..... who is gonna miss, the

next time I will open my eyes, ears and soul to the night?.......who... and

when.... just do not want to know.......... I'm merely an infinitive wedge of

other thousand wedges of the mosaic, almost undistin-guishable, just want to be

shadow of myself, waiting

for the next tiny ray of light..... waiting for my pain to run away...

and never come back..... but sure she will.......

 

TELEMACO PEPE

 

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