Sun rises wild

I’ll ask the mountains, because they can see everything, they know all about us. They’re the only thing doesn’t move. I’ll ask the mountains if they could see the sunrise. A free and wild dawn, that breaks early in the morning. Clean, pure, nameless, without the city dust.

I’m in front of my window, opened to the world, maybe waiting a miracle like an earthquake which destroys all the buildings that block mi sight, which don’t let me admire this new day. Watching the sunrise from my house of the rising sun, a quiet tear rolled down my cheeks. That tear reflected my reality: four naked walls and me in front of the window, sitting on the cold and despairing floor. That’s the image, imagine it. My body is present here; my mind is travelling far away from here. My soul is hoping the moment of escape from the topics which condition my life. Someday, the walls are going to burn and I’m going to break the confinement that blinds my head.

Suddenly, I can hear a whistle, the mountains are telling me the walls are burning and the wild is coming. The doors of a wild garden are opened to me and I won’t ever return to be tame.

Run and fly and shout against the wind. Be the storm, be the rain, falling quiet or extremely violent. Be the thunder, be the lightning, frightening the trees of a forest. Blow in the wind, howl with the blizzard. Flow with the river, go down with the waterfall, remember the freedom of first species. Follow the tiger in Blake’s forests of the night, return to the beginnings of Earth. Always walk following the horizon, without a permanent direction, travelling with the sense of the wind. Always walk, never stop, go on, go on, look for the way to happiness, ever close your eyes, don’t forget your dreams. Believe for a while that you’re part of the wild nature. Imagine strange shadows between the undergrowth, smell the northern jungles, the humus smelt. Sail away beyond Caribbean Sea, from the east to the west, from the south to the north, from reality to imagination. Cross the oceans looking for mermaids who never love sailors, discover a new way of fantasy. Climb the highest trees of Amazon Forest, be a child in the Arctic Circle.

That’s a small part of all I can do in my imaginary journeys. Wherever I’m, there’s always a shadow with me, looking forward escape. That part of me is always lost in time; it’s good and bad, god and devil. Destined to wander in a northern forest, my wild garden crossed by the rivers of belief and surrounded by invisible walls which don’t let civilization contaminate my particular world. But the danger of living in an own dream, is the awakening, when you discover the lie of the imagination, when you’re disappointed by reality.

While I’m locked in this room, I just can look out of the window waiting better times, when I can return to my place, in the high of a hill, in front of the lagoon. Sunset on the water that reflects afternoon clouds. Red and golden light filtered in the sky. That’s my place, where I can see the mountains and feel the cold air in my face, surrounded by sunflower countries. But that’s just a dream. I’m trapped inside the water where the sunlight touches my fingers, sending heath through my body and no one hear me when I scream. Everything is silence, loneliness and sadness, missing the lost freedom. Dear, don’t be sad, soon you’ll be free, water tells me.

Buried in the ground, I want to rise because I know dawn is breaking. Blocked by the city, I want to climb high because I miss the sunlight. Isolate in water, I want to emerge to breathe the real air.

Life. Death. Both carried by the boreal wind, unifying everyone in this world. Animals just can understand those two concepts. During their lives, they live just to survive and in the last hour, they just wait the end. Without fear. Dear, don’t be sad, it’s not the beginning of the end, it’s the return to the Wild.

In the end, after thousand words, sun is rising wild.