From “The shade of old spectacles”
You, little prince
Standing with thirst in your throat
And the witch
Your own reflection
Clear and still in what’s left of the river.
It is time to say goodbye
Even if she will never die.
It is time to let things be
To let her grow
To let her become a rose in your garden.
Now hear the cracking sound of your fractured bones
Growing and welding to one another
The snakes now can slither away in fear
From what you have grown to be.
Time can never go backwards
But for once entropy gets a little twist
Soon the windows of trivial stories light up
Without distracting you from what matters
The grass that grows bigger than pines
The river that flows and flows
The tree is revived and the rose
Blossoms in the sunrise
Bushes, ferns and green ponds
Open your eyes,
Unscarred by the shatters of glass
Can you see it now?
Can you see the colors of the wheatfields
You always thought to be an arid empty place?
Can you the shades of the wilderness?
The life you had sown for yourself
It is enough
This will be enough
Yes there are snakes chasing the mice
Yes there are winters that turn fresh water into ice
Fruits that are poisoned
And willows from the past
But there is so much more.
Moss as bed linen
Streets leading to more adventures.
Stars that laugh
Ruins that decay
Roots that spread.
The beautiful trees
Yield healthy berries
A shy flower hiding its spines
A wind blowing their scent.
The little prince.
Our inner child
The allegory of our most genuine way to see life
The recipient of our most intense emotions
The little prince,
Who now sits down on the floor
Being one shade among the others
Next to the blooms he waters.
They all admire the flowing of time
The nature growing back
They all look at their reflection in the stream
Wrinkling and twitching
They all feel the wind blowing.
He takes a deep breath