Sadness

Senses collapsed on weeping
a spleen very deep started to flow
a memory recovered retroactively, pleading to rediscover what I foolishly deferred,
look, I can be efficient, says the memory,
the stroke of the event, recognized as one between equals memories,
violently, tears come down
a crying virgin is the example of model,
often we humans, come to terms accepting myths and rituals,
a coup of sadness
reading books does not make me happy
I want to transfer this kind of unsatisfactory sense,
although I conclude with no possibility
now the autobiographical element:
I transfer to my son the gaiety of read poetry, the gaiety of creating something,
for me, the mysterious beauty of the wall is that it seems sad,
the bird feeding and the bees flying over the weeping herbs transfer sadness,
and lots of thoughts to create momentum, inventive something that is happy instead of being sad
I invite you to dig on your sadness,
if you learn to find beauty on your sadness
maybe you could embellish your life,
and the practical things, the matter could be more than plastic or artificial items you didn’t choose
this is utopian, I think that sadness makes me see all with more bravery,
where bravery means I’m close to capitulation
Boredom and tranquility are not good enough to achieve?