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thoughts & prose fragments
Lost in the mists of time
Once there were hope and nightingales' songs. There were citadels made of dreams and moonlight. But like so many other things, they have been lost in the mists of time. The sky fosters a bitter silence that comes from soulless stars and fallow gardens. The sorrow stained clouds will remain. And I know everything is unreal, but I just want to feel. The emptiness keeps breaking my heart. And I break the mirrors. You shouldn't look at my reflection. The tears I hide, the darkness deep inside - you can never know.
If only...
I fall asleep underneath ceilings full of dust and cobwebs. In rooms with locked windows, without doors. Strangers lay next to me. Whisper my name. I send them away before dawn.
During the twilight hours, I usher the last stars back on their sky, a sky that does not care for me. That it does not know of me. I wish I could sing. There are so many things I'd be able to tell you. If you visit me in my dreams, I will show you.
It's not enough
There were tears coming out of her hollow eyes. They looked unclear.
There was smoke coming out of her mouth. She said I love you. And it sounded false.
Or not enough. I have seen her eyes flash and foam formed around her ruby lips when she talked to me. I have felt her hands around my neck. Suffocating me, crushing me. Pushing me to the edge and pulling me back to her forsaken land of nightmares.
It will never be enough.
untitled
And there came nights and nights with moons that had no face and no voice of their own - but they sang with the sorrow of a thousand forgotten stars and exiled dreams.
And there came dreams and dreams with false promises that each dawn they were burned by the sun.
Κι ήρθανε νύχτες και νύχτες με φεγγάρια δίχως πρόσωπο, χωρίς φωνή δική τους - μα τραγουδούσαν με τη θλίψη χιλιάδων εξόριστων ονείρων. Κι ήρθανε όνειρα κι όνειρα με ψεύτικες υποσχέσεις που καίγονταν κάθε αυγή από τον ήλιο.
Τελευταίος Σταθμός
Μαύρισαν οι ωκεανοί. Τα μάτια γεμάτα στάχτη δε βλέπουν πια τον ήλιο.
Πεθαίνει η αυριανή αυγή. Βυθίζεται στο χθες
Και στο ποτέ.
Το δηλητήριο στις φλέβες της Χιονάτης θα τη σκοτώσει και για πάντα εκείνη θα χαθεί.
Δε θα υπάρξει ανάσταση. Ο Λάζαρος θα περπατά με άδεια μάτια και σάπια ρούχα γεμάτα σκούληκια και λάσπες. Θα περπατά, μα δε θα πηγαίνει πουθενά.
Broken
I hold pieces of a broken moon in my heart. A broken soul and a million tears lost in the ocean. Pain disguised with fire. Black ink from wet pages bleeds into tomorrow. And sorrow bleeds into the sky. The white doves turn black, the nightingales suffocate. The sun forgets to rise.
And hope forever dies.
waiting
They gave her roses before they left. One for each day of waiting.
A request for faith with each one of them.
She watched them wither one by one.
She carved words with the thorns. Poems, or prayers.
She never really loved me
"I'll tell you what looks good on you. I'll let you take my dreams. And I'll tell you that I love you before the final strike. And never think that I'm doing it for you. Never think that I won't kill you in the end."
{ΟΥΚ ΕΓΝΩΣ}
Julian, last of the Pagans said "I read, I understood, I condemned"
And the Alexandrian Poet said "Ridiculous man, had you understood, you wouldn't have condemned".
But Poet don't you see? No one has ever understood.
"Forgive" was written "kill" we read. "Love" it said "hate" we understood.
And we condemned ourselves.
White Kingdom
--The Wolf--
This wolf is lost inside the rivers of the night.
It's calling for the moon. Lonely, with two immortal stars trapped in its eyes. It breathes
the night dew of the wind and dances alone.
The secret of the other world in its heart it keeps.
Forever.
--The Raven--
Feathers made of gloom's thread
My lost raven - messenger of the dead
Eyes made of ebony gleams
Bird of darkness, thief of dreams
--The Jasmines--
The jasmines bloom underneath the white castles of the changeless in-between. They paint white the echoes of the moon. They sing of dreams.
--My Dream--
In this world I'm lost; enthralled in grey forests of stars that shine with a light that longs
for innocence.
Therein I dance in a frozen lake.
In the twilight mist I'm almost drowning.
Alone I shall be.
Raven, speak to me.
I know there're walls I cannot see.
Places outside the mirrors - I can never reach.
I'm fated to be in a reality that is but a dream; away from Time's kingdom of life.
Here, in the in-betweens, time is frozen.
A world only real for us.
Raven, hear me.
Don't let the ice break. Save me.
Forget me.
Time won't reach us. And no one else will.
-------------
This is a kingdom of light. Of faerie light and dawning dreams, of roses dripping dewdrops and moon pearls. Everything's made of crystal, thick snow, glistening like a colossal water veil. It encircles us. It entraps us, bind us inside of it. You see,
Beauty, dreams and eternity have their price. Secrets have their keepers. Rivers have their flow. This is our world and you and I will never meet. It's the curse of the secret beyond the dreams. Wolves, ravens, jasmines. We are the children of the night. We carry the blackness of the night and the colours of the dreams in our hearts.
And forever we shall be alone.
Cyprus: The Sky is too dark
They came one day with guns and told us our country didn't belong to us. They took our houses and our lands. They shot those who resisted. They captured the moon and tortured it until it bled silver. Friends and relatives fell like tree leaves in the autumn. We grew up with an invisible, yet impenetrable wall that wouldn't let us stand in the ground that was ours. I saw the soldiers. I saw their guns. I felt the pain and their hate. Time didn't bring relief. It didn't bring peace. Only oblivion. For less people care now. They've accepted thing as they are. It is easier for them. But there is still a hollow place inside of us. Still a black spot where the moon used to be.
Cyprus: The green black line that divides the sun
I remember once, Holy Saturday it was. We were around the church with candles in
our hands. Only half a step away from the border. I turned my head and I saw the
gun. The hands looked so friendly. So familiar. But you held a gun, not a
candle. And it was pointed at my heart. Unbending, life consuming hate wrapped
in metal. So cruel.
What a job you have my brother. Did you choose to be there dividing us eternally
or where you chosen and trained to hate us? We learn to hate you too. We were
chosen... when the stars were refused a place in their sky, when our homes were
taken so violently thirty-something years ago.
Have you been standing there since? How much longer will you stay?
You won't let us cross, let us go home. You blow our candles, outside the
church. Frozen I stare at you. And maybe I don't believe in God, but the light
was real and now it's gone.
My brothers how could you?
Wasteland (She could not love me, for I could not be perfect)
She smelled like cigarettes. With crushed pills inside her palms and poison in a crystal glass. In the floor around her laid broken porcelain dolls with blue dresses. I could see the tears on their faces. Almost smell their sadness. There was sorrow in that room. The room with the white walls and the symmetrically arranged furniture. Almost perfect. But the white paint covered a child's drawings on the wall. It covered the suns and hearts I drew with colour pencils.
Inside her eyes I could see a wasteland of abandoned dreams. I could see her replacing my lollipops with plastic strawberries that smelled like whisky and vodka. I have seen her crying moments ago, so I drew her a card with pink hearts. But she didn't look at the girl of nine with the hungry eyes. She didn't talk to me. The hearts dropped from her hands and she traded them with a cigarette. She wiped her tears and slowly made her way out of the room.
She had glued my eyes open so I could watch her leave. I called for her. But she didn't come back.
I was not her daughter. I was nothing.
