Inspirational moods

From father to son..

Posted on: April 30, 2011

Is it true what is written in the Kalevala:
“A hand that gives is always above a hand that takes?”
Is it true what they say in Basra:
“Love is like a shadow, if you run after it you will never
catch up with it. If you turn your back on it, it will follow you.”.

Someone said somewhere, and I thank him for that:
“In order to truly love, you have to grow up to become a child”.

Therefore, smile if they tell you you’re a small man.

There’s no small happiness nor small illness. 

There’s no small theft nor small death.

There’s no small war nor small honesty.

There’s no small friend nor small secret.

There’s no small man nor small love.

Don’t ever turn your back on me so that I would love you.

I remember your first teeth. I remember your
first steps. I remember: Novi Sad
Children’s Hospital. I’m sitting on side of your bed and praying
to all forces in this world that you don’t die on me.
And you stayed alive.

Not even God believed us those days. Not even the nature.
Nor people. Only our great love believed.
Only your hand in my hand believed,
while, like a little paintbrush, it painted azure light on
my palms.

We turn upside down like a sand clock.
and trade with each other.

One day your voice will get deeper. You will start to
shave. You will get married and get a job. You will have
your own kids and tell them your own fairytales.
And I will be getting more and more childish and innocent.

You will know me by the way I naively believe
that I will live forever, infatuated with inner
speech of the ancient god Ptah,
who had first invented the entire world inside of himself, then
exhaled his incredible thoughts,

and, in that way, with his huge imagination, alone in the Nothingness,
the only one, he brought to life everything that had been uncreated.

After that, everything will come suddenly: my last teeth.
And immediately after that: my last steps.
In the end: some hospital in who knows which city.
Sit on side of my bed in an evening like this one
at least for an hour or half an hour.
It will be just enough for all the damn years.

And let my hand be in your hand. And let it, like a paintbrush,
paint the same pleasant light sign
on your palms, a sign that I’ve never,
ever turned my back on you so that you would respect me and love me.

Love is like strength: the more you use it, the more you’ll
have it.

If birds could love like this, like I do, they would have already
turned into wind. If brooks could love
like this, like I do, they would have already turned into oceans.

If spaces could love like this, like I do, they would have already
turned into infinity. If time could
love like this, like I do, we would have already turned into
eternity.

If the Earth could love like this, like I do, it would have, long ago,
become a star.


Mika Antic 


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