For your holiday
You open your eyes, while the flower opens the beautiful petals of its bloom. They are red like memories, like feelings, like the rivers of blood that supply the fragile feminine flower.
Strange! Your silent, concentrated gaze, fixed upon the silken petals of the flower. It is silent! Its petals are a page written with impressions. You look at the present in it, and with its colors, you dream of the future. How beautiful, your gaze searches the orbit of the flower’s eyelash for the beauty of its soul and feeling.
But the flower does not speak. It looks at the arch of your eyebrow and the deep sky of your eye’s orbit, and releases from its soul, blooming, a pleasant fragrance. This is how flowers speak, with fragrances and colors. You have these colors too, my girl, in the petals of your outlined lips, like the beautiful line of the horizon that divides the sea and the sky of my desires. Your purple petals, like the petals of flowers, murmur fragrances, and feelings, and words, words emerging from the beautiful oasis of your breast…
You feel the rustle of the flower’s lip. I feel the rustle of the flower of your lips. I feel and hear the music, the notes played harmoniously by the flight of your spiritual blooming. It seems to me that you are sisters of the same mother. You were both born from the beautiful feeling of fragrances, colors, and songs that emerges from the murmuring of your voice, which has its source in the depths of the world, in the depths of human feeling.
You look at the flower, I look at your blooming. I caress you from afar, without realizing it. Petal desires are plucked from the tree of inspiration and, falling onto the white field of the paper, they turn into flowers. They bloom and with fragrances express my love for you, for You, my flowers. For You flowers, be you mothers, sisters, or children! Your grace dissolves into a beautiful vision and turns into a song, into a painting, into a great orchestra whose name is love, life. It turns into an orchestra where You are its most beautiful sound and symphony. Without your hand, your touch, your kiss, the future cannot bloom. And we who rest our heads and weave dreams amidst your blooming become more beautiful, happier. With your kiss and fragrance we fly through the skies of feeling and life, and we bow to nature and speak to it with the voice and whisper of kisses:
“Thank you, thank you for eternally and generously gifting us the garden of their blooming and fragrances, without which the world and life would remain poor.”
You kiss the beautiful petals of the flower, I kiss the petals of your dreams, and I turn into an angel, an angel whom only you can see in his flight, and the nest he has built in the beautiful shelter of your soul. My flowers, our flowers, the flowers of life, who give the world fragrance, life, and continuity. Happy day to you, which is our happiness!
PILO ZYBA
