I opened my palms, slowly
a million butterflies stretched out all their fragile sensitivity
in the strength of a despair's up high raising
The music kept on playing
just a divine melody,
pure describing these wings flying in their fragility
As I astonished kept on admiring the scene
I could still, see beyond this ever high up harmonic flying
No, no, no,
Wait,
There, can you see it? ...no
There, can you feel it? ...maybe
There, can you dream it ? ...why not
Now, all I could see was the eagle's untouchable desire
hidden right there beneath the butterflies' wings
A passionate cry out
for the celestial skies up above
A determined explode
for the real reflection captured within
The melody kept on caressing my fingers
Was it a fragile flying indeed , I was looking at...
Was it a strong passion of an eagle to reach out to the eternity...
Was it you, or was it me...
"..feed my words, release them grown in the ever lasting stars above
caress my senses, release the power in the eternity of the soul..."
What divided the fragile wings from a passionate strength
was an unspeakable perfection of my deepest eye deception
Keeping on exchanging
that passionate cry, beneath an harmony of sensitivity
to the most divine power of a soul melting....
The Last Tango in Paris kept on playing smoothly
what a melody to feed ink of insight...
time didn't matter, moments didn't interrupt
I slowly closed the book
I dearest sealed the flying of words
Now , I knew my very own truth...
The Last Tango in Paris, was still playing...
___________________________________________
(c) Evangelia Hatzidaki
