All images are © Copyright Rosa Cobos 2010 . All rights reserved
There was a time….when I played for nothing, it must have been long time ago. Sometimes, I can hold the world of freedom, as a child. There must be a light in all the playing, and so I look inside to meet it. This is dedicated to every soul, who as myself has seen all the life changing from strangeness and solitude to a sharing fantasy.
Title from this song that I love from this poet that I love.
“Where do the Children play” (Cat Stevens)
*I get lost in his silence’s lighting.
Mute windmills without a breathing.
I can watch the Fool kidnapped,
running before wild horses,
playing with hungry dogs,
flying with paper doves,
being burnt like moths,
under dusty suns.
Songs of the mermaids lullabies,
sleeping behind murmuring clouds,
deep and warm…black is She,
the poetess of dreams,
the horizon where, my thoughts
may fall into a deeper abyss.
Playfull is the music that they play,
fingers dancing upon the earth,
a mosaic of filagree and shadows.
Apparently , they are going along,
laughing with the patterns,
created with simplicity,
and animated by their souls.
I feel sad,
not without a sweetness..
I feel uprooted….
not without feet to grow in,
I feel alone….
not without a world in my heart,
running free like a drop,
ready to loose the grip,
from the border..trembling border,
of a blooming rose.