Sometimes the poetry of life seems to be everywhere.
When reading amazing literature and forgetting my surroundings completely. I’m so absorbed by my book, reading and swapping the pages quickly.
A feeling of being in love with something new.
As if having met a new lover.
Suddenly the world is a different world.
Who was I before I met you?
I can’t believe you were there, living your life all the time.
And I did not know you yet.
Fine tunes over a delicious breakfast and reading the sweetest email by new friends, going deep with each other. Sharing personal stuff. Really taking the time to write each other. A tear rolls down my cheek and new insights light a fire in my soul.
Driving my grandfather to the beach. Bach playing on the radio as the soundtrack of our life. Silence only interrupted by his pointing finger to places he used to live.
Peaceful and poetic. Moments to cherish.
And sometimes, the poetry is nowhere to be found at all. Life is so ugly I forget we are living a fairy tale at all.
The music is false.
The news too disheartening, too worrying.
They killed Muslims and He pulled back his support for the Paris Climate agreement, on a moment already so critical.
The car horns too loud. They hurt my ear and disrupt my calm, and I can’t escape it. The menstrual pain too much and the stomach too sore.
And I sigh and wonder; Where are you my poem? Where is the music?
Is Life really this dull?
Ludovico Einaudi sounds softly from the speakers, after reading the news. It sooths my soul and nervous system, gently comforting me and reminding me of the beauty.
The water still falls unafraid of sky high rocks. And Mother Earth whispers softly: “Swim in my waters… Bathe in my rivers… Climb my mountains….”
Is Life really this beautiful?