The Insidious Idea
As the sun blows on my face
With a mere ray of light,
I am listening to a kind of whistle played by the wind…
It sounds like an idea,
Without a face like mine,
A breath slightly away from my eyes,
Not heard yet, even with them open.
I grasp at it, it escapes,
Then it bites me from afar,
With a strange lightning,
It strikes me by surprize,
Weakened by my expectation to be true.
Desperation of belief,
Acclaiming the truth before living it…
Thus, I seemed to encounter this idea,
With the strange vision of embracing it
Without knowing it…
It was like looking through a reading glass
Unclouded at first sight,
Surrounded by a glow of certainty,
Because my eyes were watching mesmerized,
Seeing what the reason tricks us to trust
And then disguising it in a belief,
So deeply rooted in the mind,
As if it were dressed in steel, never to be broken
Twisted in itself, taking only its own shape
The more I was glancing at,
The only clarity deserved
Was in not daring see more
And in not reaching farther from it.
Outrageous to deny it,
Sticking to thoughts like feet in the mud,
Deviously insinuating into the soul,
Heavy stone, just sinking at the bottom of my river.
Seemingly true, yet by all senses,
If I were really to listen to them
And take my steps back away from it,
Seeing in the name of righteous lucidity
The grains of sand laid at my feet, but not the shore
And neither the sea in its beauty,
Deceit masked in truth
Polite face of reason,
To test the earnest faith,
Making the truth look too small
To take its place with conviction.
I had to walk away from this idea,
There was little to read through the glass…
Caught in its maze I could have been
Only if willing to enter
Its narrow, straight, illusive path...
Suddenly, my heart was lighter
I looked at the horizon,
I Saw the Sun again,
Shining for its fire and light,
Without the approval of such insidious idea
Not even dismissing it in mistrust.