.
...The big bird of Paradise is the first thing your eyes will envision after the transportation: she will lead you towards the nebulous forest, outside the garden, which actually it’s silvery: the sun of Paradise it’s Aztec, and its endless streets, stairs and bridges, are sunbathed day and night.
Leaving Eden behind [the garden of the 1001 ziggurats], you’re entering into the forest, whose back boundary is close to the white chasm of the nebulae.
You’ll have to ride the giant bird now, to cross the immensities of the cosmic vault, where the white chasm lies.
Lies: remember: are all lies.
On the other side of the universe of your drem, you are: the point of inflection is three; the mirrors are one: the bird dissapeared.
Now you’re facing the south side of the Zodiac lung
[as I was facing the death of all my dreams: so now all of them are dead, as I am]
can you see now the Zodiac lung..?
your next step could be harder..
now: take a breath and watch to your left.
The sequence will show, under your feet, the glass sheet, one of both: now you’ll have to jump over the chasm of the moralists of the life: them, traitors of their own law.
Law.
Your jump will be hard, because the chasm is immense and its black mouth it’s scary, and never ends.
Like the mouth of a never ending, black wolf the chasm is, so, your jump hard it is.
But if you dare to do it, and jump, even knowing that you would never succeed, then a force will turn your jump into flight: now.
Like in a reversed sequence you find yourself now beyond the feat: it is done: how?
There is no use in trying to understand the matter the reveries are made of.
________________
That green path you see in front of you, right behind your eyes: that green path provokes you some incomprehensible sadness.
The path it’s ascending and sunbathed
And at some point, the path ascends, to descend later: I am crossing it right now.
Though I don’t want: crying I walked by this path, tomorrow.
Though I won’t want: crying for you I’ll walk by this path, yesterday.
I am just another passer-by across this valley of sad images; across this replica of the life itself; and I am missing you.
But you: you’ve got to walk the path now.
...In the middle of the ascending road there are the swimming horses.
It is a summer road, and does have a lake that could remind you of your past-terrestrial days.
Into the lake are the horses: crimson and purple, magenta.: don’t look at them.
Passing by the lake, and far away ahead, the road becomes windy and lonely: here is where yor inner self will talk to you louder.
The only inhabitants of this comarque are the owls, and their oblique and tall shadows are projected by the sun, among the shadow of the wind.
If you observe very hard.
Running like the sand on the desert, the shadow of the wind.
These damned corners have to be left behind: going out of these comarques, the road starts going down...
The wind dies, the oblique shadows disappear: now, follow the high sun, down.
______________
At the end of the road there is something.
You are walking down the road now: and the lower you descend, the brighter the sun shines.
Shine.
Because deep down along this path, there are some bitternesses, and also some tepid sweetnesses.
Because this path is a replica of the life itself; and when you complete the distance, between your fears and its end, then you will be back in the world again.
Out of this nightmare of hellish labyrinths. Out of these enigmatic roads.
Hellish labyrinths.
Enigmatic roads.
Like the life itself.
Now: go on.
.
