Odă ție, om de vânt și stele, care singur mi-ai înțeles fără să mă fi știut, zbuciumul și dorul.
Mi-ai aprins viața într-un mod nespus de adânc și luminos.
Sub aripa ta m-am cuibărit ca la sânul mamei, și ți-am devorat cuvintele ca și cum nu exista altceva pe lume.
Cuvintele sărăcesc acum, dar în inima mea vei fi viu pururea, arzând și arzând ca o taină mare, ca un semn de întrebare, și totodată ca cea mai mare certitudine și regăsire pe care am trăit-o aici pe pământ în versul cuiva.
To the ones that have fallen from their own standards, the ones who have broken their wings due to recklessness and carelessness. You can lick your wounds and resent the wind as you look at your shattered parts. But deep down, you know you were made for high places.
So pick up your pieces. It will hurt. But there is nothing for you down here; you’re a daughter of the sky.
I feel within myself the utmost desire, an unquenchable thirst for wonder. How deeply the things unknown and unseen captivate my imagination.
It’s almost like my home is elsewhere, and here, I’m just a traveler. And on my journey I cannot help but think that there is so much more beyond mere flesh and bones, beyond this big blue floating dot we call home.
“That, my dear, entirely depends on where your journey takes you.”
“Then I must make sure I get this journey right…”
“It’s not about getting it right, it’s about the exact opposite: realizing you will never get it right on your own, and letting the beauty of that reality set you free. It’s about learning to stop looking at yourself and learning to look up.”
Like a little kid afraid of the dark, you find yourself again and again. Now you are older and the monsters are different each time. They change. They are bigger now. They look like failure, worry, doubt and insecurity.
So just like the little kid you were, you leave the door open just enough for a beam of light to make it through; just a crack. Just enough so that you can hear papa’s voice whispering: “everything is going to be ok.”