Itaca

So the whole horizon seems blue…pink for you, who always wanted to live a life different to the one you have. Take a deep breath. Are you ready? Well, you better are, because this is it. You are not going to follow that shooting star because you never really wanted it. At this very moment it might be flying around the cosmos, patiently waiting for the eyes that deserve it, allowing the dreamers to dream and the poets to write. It will be crashing soon because it all ends. And probably all its trajectory was a waste of time and space. How would anyone allow that to happen? Permitting the waste, the loosing of moments that are here and now for those who will never come? Who is in charge of such a poor organization? It isn’t me. That I can assure. I am here passing by. Just like the rest, but not quite like the rest. First, they told me to follow my heart, to aspire and try to get that that I wanted. And I did. And I failed. It’s not as easy as it seems. I mean, trying is the best part, but when all the effort comes to nothing. What can I say? Well, it’s not pleasant to live with all that is left. Basically, few words and some pieces of your soul scattered all over the crime scene, displayed in the open light, making you more vulnerable to judgment. They also said the fight makes you stronger, but you only get to see the results in the long run. That if you have the patient for it, of course. I was contempt with having my songs, my books, my films, my world all by myself. I was happy in there, in my imagined island fooling the world. Then you came in and changed it all. It usually happens when you cross your path with destiny. Nobody could resist that. So there is only one way to go. In my life I’ve met a lot of people who can control that call. They know how to silence the noise of the beats drumming like crazy inside your chest. But I was never tempted to live under that code. I wish I was, but I am not made of that wood. All I ever wanted was to love you and see the world. I didn’t care how I would walk those miles, because there was a time when I had the stamina to save any distance. I don’t want to write more about it. I feel like Rimbaud. Or at least I can imagine what he felt: disappointment, the roughness and weight of life on his amputated heart, on his inert poetry, on the impotent and cynic world in which he lived that never was willing to make a revolution for the sake of love. I am tired. You know why. You came to be like the corrupted politician who knows that all the demands he made will remain unfulfilled. You came to be what I feared the most: Words full of air. And still I waited. For the sake of the future, of the dream, of the stream of passion that runs wild inside me. It might sound selfish, but I dared to dream about you knowing that the dream will end. And every time it does in the same way: You vanish. Just like that. Like if you never were. Which Gods do we construct to worship? Which stupid reaction drives us to those who cannot cope with the energy we need to burn, to share, to ignite in the world to make it a better world? What’s wrong with a world that doesn’t care for those who try to save it? What’s wrong with me, blowing it up every time they give me the chance? I’d risked my life again. After all, I’d still do it. So that’s a creed I wouldn’t ask anyone to follow; but it’s only a personal one. Imposition does not exist in my vocabulary. I am running nowhere this time. As Damon Albarn said, I’ve got not distance left. So the plan, after all this Odyssey, is to build my shattered island once again. And live there happy forever after, like in a fairy tale. I’ll build a window to watch the world pass by, to listen to those who always inspired me through time and in time. I’ll keep my promises to myself. You don’t need to breath for me. You don’t need to watch over me. You don’t even need to remember me. I won’t be there for you as once I wanted to. We are meant to be free. That’s a precious gift, and I never again will be so selfish to ask someone to give it up to join me in this crazy idea of living the dream. La vida es como el mar. Hay que entregarse a ella como las olas.