Rain Borderlines (A Brief Story).

By Amalia Pedemonte/Aquileana.
November 23rd, 2013).-
amaliapedemonte

Hope is a glow that shivers when the stars begin to appear . But those glowing points seem vanish when she steadily stare at them…
Silver flowing stars. Just snappish light that turn into nothingness

Dreams, outworn by cruel hopes…. Dark Sky above…
Hope, she already has lagged it behind her, filed between the folds of old experiences.
Hostile features, a legacy of ignominy, that was the aftermath of old lost battles
A Spear that still hits… No shields available for fighters that defect …

Past inexhaustibly stalking the pale mist of the present.
Today always leads to a wasteland of dry lands, unknown choices, roads untraveled. (What if?) …

Past slowly moving into the present… Timeless conjunction, a shade of a gesture.

Endless plateaus, monotonous wrinkles of the horizon, quiet landscape of infinite slopes. And also the sharp never ending silence.

Veil illusions followed by shuttered glances… The past is still there as a steady branch of the present

Like a breeze which scatters the arid scene, the immutable calm suddenly become a clatter, which falls from the lofty heights

Something known but still unusual sets up into scene. The stage of life, once again.
Shaking arrogant skies, rain heavily falling, forces tempting and hurrying Destiny.

A constellation of crystallized drops, insatiably descending from above. Heavily falling, despite its weightlessness. (This is not a paradox, just a subtle irony)

She looks through the window. The obstreperous of rain still falling down…
She listens to the rain crashing on the iron sheets of the roof… Mostly clattering there, with its monotone rhythm pouring down once and again

Rain, inexhaustible source of life… Call of change spilling from the sky, spanning all surfaces with pure drops of water…

Waterfalls, rivers, lakes, seas.

Spring water of blue landscapes, flowing throughout turbulent riverbeds and narrow willows…

All liquid surfaces are or have been rainy…
Expectations initially came in the size of tiny raindrops, but that was well enough to set up new departure points…

The size of hope increases and so does the amount of Belief. One thing leads to the other.

Let it rain. Water is a liquid border between skepticism and Faith… A pervious line, in fact so easy to cross.

Thanks to all Maxima´s readers to take the time to read this brief story…

… Cheers !… Aquileana / Amalia Pedemonte.

http://aquileana.wordpress.com/

Blog: La Audacia de Aquiles (The Audacity of Achilles) . “El Mundo Visible es Sólo un Pretexto” / “The Visible World is Just a Pretext”.
URL Website:http://aquileana.wordpress.com/
Blog in Spanish / Translation to English ( First Foreign Language )
rain12

The Autumn Strands

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Written: Maxima
The autumn strands
gently as the breeze
catching your hair,
my fingers slip through
the autumn strands
loving you the only way
that I can.
your tiny nose sprinkled
with kisses from the gods,
fading freckles left by the sun
across your cheeks.
I long to see you body
beautiful in drops of moonlight.
Warm the night with me.
My beautiful angel,
allow the bright stars in heaven
to shine upon our dream
let us love there together.
my heart and soul
will be with you forever.
Open my horizon again.
I love you