Monday, June 1, 2015
... des Eisbergs.
There is so much hidden..., not by me, by nature. In my desicions are so many people working the vision I will have, finally, in the silence of my wings.
I am die Zipfel, yes, the top of the Iceberg, the little thing that looks so poor in the big ocean, and I am, but you could never move this little thing, you can try, but miss Zipfel has too good foundations.
Where is love, in all this thoughts comming from nowhere? Well, all the foundations are a depurated love, the extract of all my beloved people, and a sad surrounding of the pain that I can´t put away of me, because he is still the owner of the happiness, the love, the family, he is the other Zipfel of mine, my other top, my Flasche, the horror that still been the farest away part of myself, and I´m sure I am his other Zipfel, his other top, probably for him, down deep in the ocean, as he is for me...
We, souls and shapes, we are so much more big than the vase that we recognize as ourselves..., my body, my wings and feathers, my pretty little eyes, are so small compared with all that I am, compared with all what we cant see of us.
In this oportunity, I have made a game, with the words, that only my stupid Fasche, mein Zipfel, could understand, but also I talk seriously about this point, people forgets that we are all what we have seen, experienced and shared, we are not the image that we prepare to go out of home, we deserve respect for the day by day that we can count behind us, and we must give the respect to the day by day that all other one have in their particular story.
Ich bin die Liebe, mit swei Zipfel.