Realms

How do I run away from this existence?

Words escape from my reach.
Every second of my life I deeply feel things
that I can’t even explain.
For me, words are as unreachable as Plato’s realm of
ideas.
I dream with a world like Plato’s perfect one,
but, what do I do when I am so far from it?
How do I explain that I can’t understand Plato
in a way other than this sense of lack?,

That in my world beauty and perfection don’t seem to
exist,
at least how he describes them?,
That it’s not okay it exists in another world but not
mine?,
That I want to feel in my body that unblemished world?
That I want dilated pupils, hearts burning and goosebumps
all over me?
But it feels impossible when I realize
that not even my world is understandable and describable,
with its ugliness and imperfection.

I even see divine figures behind what’s visible.
I see a world that I can’t reach,
it stays far away
as an unanswered question,
it flies, but it never arrives at its destination.
Flying, it looks like a plane that is about to crash
but it never does
and it goes on wobbling through the way,
through places it doesn’t know.

But away from that existence,
from that weariness,
from that long and excruciating flight,
I seem to be reminiscing another one,
full of divine presence and godly words,
full of uproarious music, ...
Full of a beauty very different from that of Plato’s.

I remember that beauty,
it was so much more vivid and energetic and real….
it is the beauty of the old bookshop still in town,
of the reflection of the sun in your skin,
of the beat of my heart whenever you’re around,
of synchronization with every little thing around me.

In that existence,
in that beauty,
I laughed, sang, danced…
I spoke a special language,
a language that seemed the right one, the perfect, the
adequate
to explain every laugh, every song, every dance,
every color, every breath….
I still remember when everything talked
in the language you showed me: the language of love.