hemlock170374

I sit
and often make myself cry
by thinking at how painful
the wheel of life can be.

How long, we often force ourselves to wait
for the moment when we can meet again,
when several lives finally make us forget
the reasons why we ended up hating each other.

How melancholic, all this can look
when viewed from high above,
from a privileged point of view
that we never reach
if not when it is too late.

How glorious, at the same time,
the idea that there is a progress in our souls,
as slow as the growth of a tree,
so slow that it is only after several lives
that we begin to guess it.

How painfully happy, we can begin to guess we are,
so painfully happy that we develop an addiction,
a great and strong addiction
to the places the mind goes
when we rearrange the memories,
when we rethink the past and the future.

I sit
and often make myself cry
by thinking at how beautiful
the wheel of life can be.