On the human race
Located between the salvation of the mountains of the moon, source of big lakes, and river plains. He communed in the meteors snow with an eloquent mood.
These groups of civilians gave birth to white human beings. Interesting beings, who only went on living all together and selecting the color of their own skin. Due to socio-cultural reasons, this recently created new ethnic group, had to migrate to new territories. It is said that the sun expelled them to other less disturbing destinations.
To avoid any burns, they had to cover their skin with mud. Few million years later, we found them hanged up to their northern Grail granitic stones, freshened up by boreal winds.
After yesterday and today, the bicephalous human being saw a third lobe growing on his skull to improve his community progress.
A corporative algebra, cracking and merging quartzes and carbons, so these things can think. Their synthesis, expression of expansions as well as compressions, comes from a huge exploiter influences. Abusing of their hunting rights, they reiterate their interlinked status.
A woman in harmony with Mother Nature talks about miracles, which can be understood because it was said that one day, nothing meant everything.
An atmosphere of ancient period nourishes her, the sky, full of clouds, filters through a light of oil paint, a misanthropic light. He does his job to reintegrate some energy synthesis. His fetishism of plants and minerals makes him a bit thoughtful. He is in love with this woman. He has the feeling that he sculpts her as himself. He sees her as an ostentatious goddess. He sees her body more than her soul. He has the feeling that he is walking on embers then on ice. He says to her that he is walking on the embers then on the ice. He tells her, a massage from the sky to the earth, as the one from he octopus to the deep volcanoes was a new exciting experience to live.
He tries to take advantage of the answers the heavens give him. “ Now you have more facilities to philosophize than to be”, she said to him as a butterfly with satin like cocoon wings. He would like to be a visionary of dream but though he is only an anonymous hand, which covers his skin.
She, the voluptuous statue, procreative, standing in front of her stones.
Find a better path: the phrasing of which people want to live well; to acquire a work discipline; this was however worrying. He had lived illuminated by the strength of the elements.
As if a hailstorm made him aware of objects and meditating with him. And didn’t see him as a pride fisherman.
He daily speaks to birds, piling up his etching ¾,to give an infinite happiness.
As a memory of the San Marco pigeon flights, the lovers are wreathed in magic. His beautiful visions are pale under the reason. She asks: “which heart will have men subjected to the things or to the expiatory women?” At the end, the jerky folds of our arms will bend our roots, crumpled reflections of our souls.
Fisherman of pride
Once upon a time there was an old fisherman who had the most beautiful nets in the world.
Every morning, he left on his wooden boat and in the evening he came back with many fishes in the holds.
Every evening, except the evening when our story begins. On that day, he had left farer than he used to, until the borders of the horizon, until the limit between the sea and the sky, in the place where we can meet the most mysterious fishes. Just before sunrise, he threw his nets with so much strength that the sun itself got trapped in them accidentally. Terrified, the old fisherman plunged into the waves and spent many hours disentangling his net, so much that he burnt his hands. Finally, the net was lying around the sun. Full of hope, the old fisherman waited for the sun to stay still under the water. But it was in vain. As he didn’t know what to do anymore, he went back to his village and he told his strange adventure. Over there, he was told that during their sleep, children had cried so many tears, that they had to be collected. In their dreams, they saw dolphins had lost their dreams.
The fisherman was exhausted and fell asleep on the sand. During his sleep the moon came to him and said.
« Little fisherman with nets of pride
You have plunged the sea into grief
Allowing the satin sun
To burn dolphins’ dreams »
The fisherman understood that the sun became the prisoner of the sea as it burnt the dolphins’ dreams. The day after he decided with the children to go back to the sea, bringing their tears along to deliver the sun.
After sealing for weeks, they met a pearl fisherman who seemed despaired. He explained that since the sun disappearance, there were no more pearls in the shells. He wanted to help the old fisherman and the children. Then, everybody went on sealing. For many days, the children, the old fisherman, the pearl fisherman and the tears, crossed seas and oceans thanks to the sad light of the moon.
They questioned all the sperm whales, the catfishes, the starfishes they met on their road. They tried to find a solution to deliver the sun. But it was in vain.
One evening, full of despair, the old fisherman fell asleep. But the moon came again to speak to him:
“Little fisherman with nets of pride,
You who has lost your sun,
If dolphins dreamt of human beings
From these tears, what are their rests?”
The old fisherman woke up of a sudden burst, and called the children to tell his dream.
Rocked by the Ocean since so many weeks, the children then realized that they have cried the dolphin dream.
They went to awake the pearl fisherman and asked him to plunge into sea to deposit their tears in each shell which had lost the pearl.
During long nights, the fisherman plunged so many times. Finally, exhausted, he left the lost tiny tear in the last shell at the bottom of the water.
An intense light made the night disappear of the sky and the sun left again to rock the dolphin dream with sweet lights. Since that day, we are told that the old fisherman has put away his nets and only goes to sea to admire the marvelous show of dolphins playing at sunrise.
20 Août 2012
Rhinoceros and dromedaries
Infinite sand, unfold your mysteries.
The Paleogene rocked carnivores before the Erebus fires, from the Sahel mammalian cemeteries to dense Arabian forest.
Guide, do you remember the Hoggar plains, where infinite volcanoes slashed the horizon under the ice sheet?
Polymorphous geology changing climates over the earth crust.
River environment, seas and oceans, then, our lakes are persistent visions of plan profiles.
Determined rhinos continued their illuminated path as if seven times four makes a moon blow and pi is more than the golden ratio.
A in twelve base magical algebra, two times sixty make three hundred and sixty.
As standing up in front of so many suns.
They told me they remembered:
“We have traveled through the centuries, and we have stopped by the mountains to drink the Ganges water. The glory horns are from us, but even so, we have only one left after the journey from Africa.”
Many stirring roads are the same. Siberian transhumances where so many hominids explored new territories without visa or regionalism; only the discovery drove on their bonhomie; a four-footed brother named dromedary, slender to float on dunes, created Zion and its frontiers.
I had known not only Eve and Adam, but also Noah who had gone through the mountains.
However, they kept everything Africa had given them. Even more, they gained a gourd to make their sorrows thirsty.
If I resume, I tell them:
From, an empty hump on the bones, the journey relieves another one.Gone with two horns, you finished with the face, softened by your journey, at the end.