Starry capers

Behind the silver curtain of our thoughts.

Miss Peg "Les ailes de l'île"

Faced with this page written yesterday, I realize how easy it is to hate, to resent, to blame oneself, to overflow with a wounded ego at being half unfairly accused. In every situation, the wrongs are shared even if the obvious 50/50 split isn't immediately clear. When you are the victim of an injustice, how can you find the resources to understand that you are partly responsible?

Admitting defeat, accepting that we could have done things differently, is to allow what is most beautiful and precious in our wounded humanity to reappear, what has the greatest value. The value we place in the small or large things we make with our fragile and unsure hands. The value that has its place in a world that is still searching for itself and that, by now, should have understood that the first of wars is the one we wage against ourselves.

I agree to lay down my weapons of counterattack, which in no way prevents me from knowing the truth deep down and sitting quietly by its side.

The heart, our hero, makes us recognize each other despite the clashes, hatred and misunderstandings.

It's all just a story of injury. It's the bite of life we thought we had won for our good cause.

I love you who can hate me because it is in this place that I find the essential that makes me breathe.

It is true, the heart, which slips between the cracks, the slaps of the cold wind of the unthinkable. It is sincere and soft like a feather carried by the calming wind of “we cannot control everything.”

Mistakes allow you to be better, that's why they are very useful even if the ego will never want to acknowledge it.

I do my best and yet sometimes it is not enough, understood, heard, received, the delivery hasn't got the right address .

I am here even if you have forgotten to listen to the gentle beating of your soul. I hear the muffled cries of past pains tearing away the present that has lasted too long.

I don't blame you, and step by step we will forget the bad reasons, the cruel intentions, the troubled visions, the twisting moods, the absences.

My tears always clean away the dust of misery that clings to our destiny.

Still little grains of sand in the meanders of our systems, but soon from the beach where we can deposit them all, we'll peacefully watch the ocean swell with our salty dreams.

I immortalize the need to remember that infinity is at the beginning, in the middle, and after the end that holds our throats tight. Let us not be in such a hurry to know, to understand, and let us sail in the dizzy uncertainty of our mad desires, of our lives that fly by with our loved ones at our side to smile at our starry capers.