the tempest, one week after

by walterdoege

the tempest was a ciclone and last for four days ending in three days of strong winds…and till today cold days weather…the winter departure and the printemps arrival…today i see the effects on many things…the place I feel more secure, the chair I lay down to read and meditate and contemplate and pray and sleep sometimes, this nest is not secure as I felt…the water dropped from the tempest rains and reach my chair and my books and my photos and some souvenirs and some little things that I appreciate so much…a liitle book of my mother’s pray…some souvenirs of travels…some manuscripts of three decades ago…this room is empty till today…I lost few books and loved things…I also discovered other things I had forgetted…my second book manuscript, that is dry now…other books…other manuscripts…the notebook of my early age of school register…some appoitments of the teacher, a letter of my mother, a letter of my father…I was a good student and this notebook in handwriting reported to my first year of school at five yeras old age…I read this notebook with great emotion and joy…I feel my mother and my father love and care…I was a happy child…also some photos of my childhood anf family…we are happy…also, some other little precious things…some sea shells…some sand of  the beach of my childhood…some little books on paiting technique of my mother…some souvenirs of the travellings I’ve made…some postscripts of wandering writings and sketches…some poems…moleskine drafts…some fragrances of other time…my longchair is now where it was, with some books around…I must do the needed arrangement in this chamber…it seems secure now…when on the tempest i felt ‘ everything must fall, I not’…’everything can disrupt, but me no’…and one week later my house is still in a working progress…my little garden is well…the flowers are coming with the printemps…during the tempest I stayed in good stand…sensing the cold, the water in my feets, the songs of thw winds…some wind’s crying, some wind’s strenght, some winds songs, and the wind and his song is music for me…the cold of these nowadays days turn on sunny days…I like the sun…I feel close to the moon…the moon is in the crescent phase, almost full moon, I would write, the moon is almost full moon, the moon is pregnant!…but the tempest in despite of danger for people and my concerns and help, the tempest resembled the point of turning point weather…dramatic manifestations of nature…beautiful manifestations of a new season…I want to appreciate the summer days, I have conditioned air craft…but I guess the four seasons seems like my life as I feel me in winter after a large autumn period of changes, deep changes, and today, three months after my last goodbye to my mother I feel her and my father happy…I feel me happy…I am alive!…I don’t know what is life…life is to be lived, life is not a matter for thinking…in the rescue of my chair and books during the tempest for a while I felt the beauty of the thunders, of the rain, of the winds…like wings leading me to the high way ahead…the future…the future is a wish…far away from destiny, future is soul freedom, future is joyful…the days ahead are good days itself, or may be good days…disregarding destiny and chance, my choice is building a beautiful future with a blue rose on the centre of my friendship, the family that each of one can build, the family that is builded daily…the future is like a black lion…the sea, the ocean that refuses no tiver, my loving path…I don’t say goodbye…i like to say I will see you soon, or farewell…i don’t say goodbyes…I should have to say last goodbyes, even though it seems illusion…I don’t say goodbye…I say ‘I love you, I see you soon, I am here, always, we are together always, till the next meeting…’and so on, we are together soon, it is just a pause in between two notes, a rest, a piece of peace,  one note is arrival,  the other note is departure in Sol major, improvising ad libidum, till the never end arrival and departures as a mellow flying of a sea bird in a sunset blue sky with pink streaks…when I see a rainbow, I make a wish: the future I wish, the future I want, the future we want…at least the good sailor sails in tempest seas, but the ocean refuses no seas, no river, no tear