Une étincelle…


Des mots...

Fin octobre,
Le vent soulève les feuilles mortes dans un bruit de papier froissé.
Le soleil à travers les feuillages, dessine des taches de lumière et joue une symphonie de couleurs exaltées par ses rayons.

Il admire la brume de ces matins d’automne, l’indolence à demi-mot de Paname prête pour le coup d’envoi de chaque nouvelle journée.
Dans le ciel, des oiseaux en formation serrée… ces voyageurs qui portent tout ce qu’ils ont vu en silence.

Juste un ciel en majesté…

Pourtant il appréhende cette saison où les jours sont suspendus dans l’ombre trop tôt, où les nuits arrivent trop vite !

Aujourd’hui, il se lève en supportant la douleur d’une inquiétude sourde…
Alors balayer cette pensée ?
L’ignorer ?
Rester recroquevillé sur le bord de la vie en attendant qu’elle passe ?
Il ose rêver d’un monde aux contours lisses et perméables.
Un monde où tout serait livré avec une notice, un mode d’emploi :…

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One thought on “Une étincelle…

  1. Translated:

    End of October,
    The wind lifts the dead leaves in the sound of crumpled paper.
    The sun through the foliage draws flare and plays a symphony of colors enhanced by its rays.

    He admires the mist of these autumn mornings, indolence ready to Paname hint of for the start of each new day.
    In the sky, birds in tight formation … these travelers who wear what they saw in silence.

    Just a heaven in majesty …

    Yet he apprehends this season when days are suspended in the shade too early, where nights come too fast!

    Today, he gets up supporting the pain of a dull anxiety …
    Then wipe that thought?
    Ignore it?
    Stay curled up on the edge of life until it passes?
    He dares to dream of a world with smooth contours and permeable.
    A world where everything would be delivered with instructions, instructions for use “wave zone Warning”; “Here path palpable happiness” or “danger, disappointment here” …
    He laughed his thoughts!
    He imagines that know everything, understand everything, control everything, mitigate things and applies to chase her dark ideas one after the other before they become words.
    We must erase from the source!
    All Clear, and almost not perceive more than the cut this concern as a tiny scar.
    The melt even at his feet, tipping in the past and not be combined more than imperfect …

    So if these days he laced up his boots soldier to face his critics, he knows forcefully that family, his friends are ink dot on the slippery wall of life.

    It suddenly feels aware of the moment and this common force that is allied with them all.
    Is this not the heart of its energy?

    If we do not hunt the echo of silence, of a doubt a concern … gum as a sketch,
    This morning offers him this wonderful gift of knowing standing conqueror loved … alive!

    It remains only to pick him in flight every spark of life, let his dark thoughts to slip through the back door so that tomorrow the last word belongs to him!

    Tomorrow we will be victorious
    Tomorrow we will be twenty hearts, and more

    Liked by 2 people

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