Views: 2
“Write with your soul and reread with the soul of others!” Nicolae Iorga
I write with love, with pieces of my soul, with the tears gathered within me, with the sun hanging on the sky of my life, with the storm in my late-night thoughts, with passion, with joy and pain, with life and for life! I write with myself through you, through your being, with you through my life, and through my writing, I step timidly into your soul and thoughts, into your very existence! I lay my soul bare on white paper and flinch slightly at every sigh you let out—a sigh of pleasure, of wonder, of pain, of longing, of sadness, of upliftment and spiritual fall, a sigh of a human whose existence sways between Heaven and Earth, beginning and end, here and there, everything and nothing! I write, and my writing is, at times, a pillar of support in a world full of pride, malice, and fallen altars, a comfort for your soul, too weary from people and life! I feel how my writing is, at once, the knife that stirs your still-bleeding wound, the rope that chokes you in your own pain, and the final drop in a glass that has long overflowed!
I write, and my words gently strip away the person you seem to be, revealing the one you truly are! Beneath my words, I carefully trace the outline of your soul, your life, and your fleeting existence on this Earth! Through my words, I cradle the child of yesterday and heal the adult of today! Through my writing, I strive to color your life with hues you’ve long forgotten, to paint your universe with shades you both long for and fear, to restore you to yourself—the one lost in your life and the lives of others, the one who saved and betrayed themselves, who cried tears of fire and laughed with their entire being, who set out in search of their truth and returned for the rebirth of that same truth!
Through my writing, I am mourning your pain and singing your joy! Nothing you feel is foreign to me! I write and see you clearly, with the eyes of my mind, searching for me among thousands of other words, other descriptions, through your life, through my life, through the rain and the light in your soul, through the shards of your being, suddenly made whole under my words! I feel you approaching me, sometimes with hesitant steps, like a blind person afraid to take the next step into the great unknown, and at other times, I feel you rushing toward me, throwing yourself with open arms into the tango your soul craves! The tango ends, yet I keep writing, and I feel you drifting away, carrying in your soul the sin of a person who allowed a moment of beautiful madness, drifting away with the condemnation of feeling what you thought was unfathomable. You drifting away… I feel you, and yet, I write about you and me, about life, or the permitted forbidden in your existence, mine, and those like us…
I write and I feel the curtain falling over the final act of my madness, my soul’s unveiling in the public square, where some adore me and others burn me at the stake—the stake within me, within you, our daily stake! I write and smile at the Inquisition within me, with the smile of one whom the love for writing has killed today for her rebirth tomorrow. I smile for an eternal tomorrow in which my writing will be reborn again!
Alexandra Mihăescu
Fii primul care comentează