All the dreams of mankind
No more of the divine wind, but the sweet lullaby of oriental music in the ears, and O spirit, that flies over the peeks of ecstasy in forgotten lands. Sometimes, he feels like an adventurer discovering each time new diamonds in a mass of mud, moistened earth in the tropical weather. With his small sword he cuts through the vegetation and strolls on untrodden paths, and every time, it gets him, that funny feeling inside. Of being for once totally alone, all senses alert, feeding on the pure air of wisdom that flows in his blossoming country. And like a gardener that plucks the roses before they fall into decay, he seizes thoughts far from the looming despair of his room at his parents house, in which he has shown fires and flames before falling into a deep frozen sleep, until the horn rang again, bringing new battles and brand new armies to free the souls of mankind, imprisoned in the narrowness of daily life without inspiration, which means, with no spiritual yearning either. The celebration of the world is dead, and the eyes are heavy from mischief and worries, but he keeps on beaming and smiling despite the rough weather. O yes, he dreams, and if it doesn’t please, well he can’t do a thing about it. He wants nor women nor money, just the pure air, good company , a smoke and good food. His neighbor used to tell him, lawyer as he was, that it is impossible to live according a common expression that says : to live off love and fresh water. So much for love, there is but humanity, in the joyous sense, that according to Shelley, “extinguishes all sense and thought, destroying life alone not peace ! “. But off with the poetry. For the longest of time , he lived like a commoner, he studied and he got to work, but one day, he kept on following white butterflies, messengers of what is beyond in his imagination.
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