12.07.19

 Arrived to this time, nothing surprises me. “Plus rien ne m’etonne”, said the great Tiken Jah Fakoly. Till the last day of my life I am going to maintain the weight of reality above my soul. My spirit will endure across storms. As always, without any resentment. Although the wound is still hurting I will never back myself down. My way has only one direction. The eternal return is only accessed trough the height, beginning with the lower levels. They came to me to take me to the false hopes. They hugged me strong just to cover my being of dead roots. To which I answered with a step forward and the known enormous smile of silence. I promised myself not to waste more time. I learned from the deepest sensation that one can feel. To suffer the mea culpa. To pierce my heart with the dagger of antilife. I know how it tastes. I lived all my life going trough deserts and nobody knows anything about it. The powerful pains will always be inexpressible. It will hurl itself to the depths and you will want it never to have happened. 

We don’t know what are our words made of. Though there’s something that we know. Against the announced death of a disappearance we have returned to provide us of ourselves. What you call light I call hell. Does not the light burn? While the thunders ring and the streets get wet all the bodies are dying. Under the light of the Sun we all will be ashes. Always dying before time. At least remember the true reasons of our return. From the beginning we knew what we were facing. And now everything is gone. To assume the farewell and to give us back the only hope. That is our task now. May our farewell last as long as it hast to last. To lift our gaze to heaven and to grasp our will to give it back to its natural state. That it is not for not having tried. To them, the storm will sacre them. To us, the rain will bless us.