Those little bright constellations of eternity...
Passing rapidly by with their slow, snaily pace...
Hidden behind the cerulean curtain guarding the gaze of us
- the anxious, eager and yearning terrestrials...
Coming out when the heavenly bulb of life descends down to bed
and Brother Moon substitues his dear Sister
for a while...
...a puny piece of eternity...
...full of you, beloved constellations...
And it goes on and it goes on and it goes on... Amen !
We wait further for Godot...
That humble young man,
that holy friend of wolves,
that saint of humour and zest for life,
that king of the the self-sacrificing altruists,
of the wise scholars of nature
sits under a tree... An apple tree !
That storage of fruity pulp and the law of gravity
falls on his head...
Maybe he feels enlighted
like Buddha once was...
Or maybe not...
Maybe he has just suddenly awakened from a dream
about a virgin...
...maybe the Virgin Mother...
...maybe a virgin girl...
...or maybe virgin nature...
perhaps...
And it goes on and it goes on and it goes on... Amen !
We wait further for Godot...
A flock of finches and sparrows flies by...
Two cuddly pigeons passionately embrace each other...
An old owl follows the young man's asceticism in it's statue-like posture
and hermit "hoot, hoot"...
Yet again - the apple...
falls...
A withered something that was once quite human
hangs from the gallows...
...following the law of gravity...
...as every good and unconflict entity...
And it goes on and it goes on and it goes on... Amen !
We wait further for Godot...
Stars explode
spitting and pissing their flesh out...
...hitting planets, moons, asteroids, living beings...
Jolly good routine !
I take a sip of my favourite, mild, chilly tea...
I just ponder, I just wonder and then I just wander...
...through, on and in the backbone of something beyond
ME,
YOU,
US...
And it goes on and it goes on and it goes on... Amen !
We wait further for Godot...
Time flows...
Once in a dry riverbed,
and in the other case as an
overflowing monumental stream...
Gazing at those lighthouses of perpetual
chaos and order, birth and death, existence and transcience
light and dark,
deep like a pool of tar and shallow as our unperfect minds and souls...
Nothing surprising, really...
After all, we are their children - in a way...
And it goes on and it goes on and it goes on... Amen !
We wait further for Godot...
Standing upon a stone plateau
of a wide desert wasteland
I do not try to ponder, wonder or wander...
I just... gaze...
At those little bright constellations of eternity...
History never starts and never ends...
It has no goal and no sole purpose...
Maybe just a pinch of sense
that we can add to it by ourselves...
...not waiting any gratitudes in return...
So I stand upon that stone plateau
- a spectacle worth worshipping by existencionalist sentiment...
How touching, how ironic, how philosophical, how nice...
How cheesy, sentimental and schmaltzy-kitsch-like...
And it goes on and it goes on and it goes on... Amen !
We wait further for Godot...