You were born when Gold embraced Dark Matter.
Your spark was life before it had a heartbeat. You were the perfection gods’ minds can’t reach. You were the fully said words people not dare confess. You were the music that heaven hears in its dreams and leaves its memory painfully speechless. You were Lucifer who denied hell and burnt it into flowers.

You were not God and you were not Adam, you were their master!

You created reality in a single touch, on Earth, not in an empty promise after death. You did not know death and death did not know you.

You created truth before eternity because you knew that truth lasted longer than any eternity. You created the right and not the fare.

You created life.

Day 1

When my naked feet touched the first plains of the world, it sent a crystal shiver into my heart, splitting the muscle into little pieces screaming into my veins. I felt that life wasn’t possible there, I was a scared Eve, out in the cold air, breathing panic. I had been broken a few times before I saw you. You, the ancient fallen world’s antagonism!

Your pure existence demanded that I had a purpose. Your creation of right made anything else a lie, unless spoken, unless shaped into the ruthless truth. You asked for my life, without any words. I had forgotten how to recognize a God because of the few lifetimes before when I had stopped looking for one. I knew that, in your perfection, you could have never been a slave to the world.

You saw my despair but you didn’t know of such things, your eyes were always in the sky. You didn’t know I was looking for perfection and I wanted to give my life to it. You had never left your Olympus, you didn’t know such weaknesses exist.

I had lived for too many summers without hope of ever finding it. I needed something, someone, to give my life to, so you gave me another day, you gave me time, your most precious gift. Because you kissed me with the perfection of your mind, you gave me my sight back.

Day 2

When you took me to the river I knew that your feet were anchoring the Earth and that the planets moved after the straight lines of your body. The wind avoided your cheeks, not to stain them, the shores drew back from your feet, the waves bowed to your voice. I looked at you and I knew that you couldn’t see all this from the height of your thoughts, you were too clean. Your hands drew stars, an invisible habit to you, and sparks of forgotten magic to me.

You came behind me and wrapped your arms around the horizon line. You said the sun burns only those who fear it. But I feared life without you more than I feared the sun, my heart was racing in becoming dust. It was the first pain that brought me back to life.

 Day 3

“What do you dream of?”

“Distances!” you said. “To the Sun, to Jupiter’s Moon, Europa. Planets, Moons, Galaxies. I dream about those faraway places, their lives and their languages, their windows and their lives. I dream about being there with you. I dream about shaping time with my hands forever into the shape that we know.

You painted the walls of the first house on earth in the color of my dark eyes. I wanted us trapped in there, so you created the rest of the world in the palms of your hand, outside our windows: warm summer winds, endless rains and bird songs, sunsets and poems, jasmine and mirrors.

I was haunted by the memory of the emptiness of the world before you created it. I remember carrying this burden, thinking: “If I were to find you, I would give my life for a second of pure admiration … I would give you my life and it would not be enough of a sacrifice, enough to redeem the purity your mind holds without even knowing how scornfully, how shallow all the worlds around us are… without the slightest intention of ever knowing it because it couldn’t be conceived inside you to start with…”

I needed a word for that, a word from another world.

You touched my cheek and told me not to fear, everything worth keeping was ahead and unborn yet.

You created our bed, shortening the distances in my dreams, stopping time. We knew that genesis would take longer than 7 days because my fingers needed your skin like air.

And there was not a single second without justification. There was a despair growing between us: we wanted to own each other’s lives and I wanted to put everything into words.

Day 4

When we laid in bed together it was an endless rebirth of possessions, of purity, of the desires first shaped in Atlantis.

It was your hands everywhere, moving in perfection, your fingers in my mouth. I wanted to rip off your skin, your muscles, break your bones inside me. It was violence filling up the roofs of our sheets, you were lost, almost humanly, in my long hair and Saturn’s rings dust rained above us as I lived by your skin. We were both slaves and gods and our screams were filling up your skies, the depths of oceans, the peaks of mountains, with thunders and lightening and this is what our love was made of.

Every corner of the world was banishing loneliness out of existence. It was the only time that we prayed… for oblivion to never come. It was painful to remember that the world existed as it did with us two feeling its other perfect dimension. It weighed heavy on our eyelids, this rebirth, an untold one. This is how secrets came into being, something above the common, trapped inside the silver shell of our beautiful egoism. “Gather enough of these,” you said, “and you’ll become a saint!”

I cried: all the other people lived in the reverse sense of words and their holiness was a lie!

Day 5

I asked you to tell me the story of Heaven and Hell and you laughed the laugh of Gods. People feared that echo, they said it was the end of the world.

You said that there is no Heaven and Hell. You said there is no other reality beside that which can be touched. You said Reality is what we make when we touch our skins and tongues. You said Reality is better than Heaven and Hell. You said Reality is courage, Heaven and Hell are not. Courage is what we make when we’re inside one another, sin is when we’re not. And I knew then if you had asked, I would have given you my life. “The real God is that of pleasure and life on this earth is made out of happiness and courage. And this is the truth!” is what you said and I believed that. I took your eyes and looked at the world through them.

 Day 6

You took my hand and walked me through your creation. You said we are all sent to the world to be gods, but we need boldness and lucidity to live up to it. You said the only fallen angels are those who crawl at the gates of other’s kingdoms instead of building their own, in their own view of their own minds. You said the true gods are those who do not fear their minds and their truth, the ones that always look ahead, the ones that fill their skies with an unbreakable hope and stand by it. You said bravery is knowing what you are deep inside your nature and sticking to it. The true gods are those who own their lives. The true gods are proud and reign over their lives wit their self knowledge above the world’s!

Day 7

You gave me the purest form of my obsession and as you gave me life between the sixth and seventh. You gave me a world for it and sent me on the journey of finding the word for it one day…

You made that world and its journey worthy. You gave me wings for distances not known to men yet.

You walked me on the beaches as your most beloved trophy, and laughed at the world.

They did not know that in my naked lust I had received their creation and I was holding it in my palms while I was begging you to own me.

You’ve put everything at my feet instead and we were each other’s kings.

You are the God of the Olympians, pasts and presents had made Zeus bow in front of you.

Now I can live because I know my God exists in this world and there could be nothing above him.

Now I can live because I want to.

Now I can live with the very first small piece of triangle shaped stone from which this universe has been created in my palms just as you held me in your palms on the edge of time.

Now I can live because I now that each existence has its own genesis and we wear it around our necks in a golden glowing pearl.

M.

To you my love, for all the pages pf my life that had been waiting for you to turn my dreams around and set them free.

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