THE FLAME

Whenever I have a free second,

I use it to be with you

One free second with you makes me sigh for more

One free minute with you is a heavenly delight

One free hour with you is Eternity 

(the good kind of Eternity)

Often, you stop time: an instant becomes eternal

Time with you is written with capital letters

I will seek you for the rest of my Time

My love is yours to keep: an eternal flame

Sándalo Naranja

EVERY HOUR

Visiting my dear ocean. Early fog, everything hidden by the mist, but your blue.

By your stairs, I stop to offer you a sunbeam, something to help you enduring this rainy day. 

Just giving you back some of the light I steal from you every minute, every hour. 

Sándalo Naranja

LONGING AND BELONGING

Beauty, life, love itself, all have to do with the sadness we find present in all forms of joy. We will always miss those beloved who died; also those we love but are away from us. 

Longing is a form of celebration. Love is a form of denial: we love in order to deny (or at least to delay acknowledging) the fact that we are alone in the world. And from our love comes all the good there is in us. Our love is home for ourselves and for the loved ones. The place where we belong.

Opposites. I will need to learn your beauty through your mistery. There is an element of "not knowing", a dark side of your magical moon. Beauty is beautiful, but not necessarily pretty. 

Hey boy, you better remember that.

And to go on with the astronomical metaphor: as we keep following our orbital path, some dark places may receive light. The areas that I see clearly now may be swallowed by new darkness. Overtime, we change, like the stars above.

Since I know you, I feel attached to life in new ways. Too many to say now.

You brought, among many others, two radically new things to my life: longing and belonging.

Sándalo Naranja

TREASURES NEVER TO AUCTION

1. One sketch of your backyard, big willow tree, some birds with a very limited vocabulary, very haunting indeed, the sketch I mean, one could smell the coffee, the quiet road, such an artistry with a few carbon strokes!

2. The humour-driven costume of adding periodic decimals over and over, because things never come out even in this life, anyway...

3. "Sunset souvenir": silvers, gilded, blues, orange and coppers, all in powder, somewhat extracted by complex chemical processes from your last blush, mmm so adorable...

4. A collection of assorted shells, vulgar-looking, but it has been said this collection was treasured by the owner as if they were a gift sent by Neptune himself.

5. A compass, very antique piece, but -alas!- limited functionality I'm afraid, since polar magnets went nuts when you appeared, arrows forgot the North and pointed ceaselessly to your figure... therefore, regrettably, the Rose of the Winds cannot be trusted anymore unless you happen to be north of the observer... Anyway, it is still a very interesting piece for collectors.

6. Another drawing, representing a bizarre hopscotch, complete with its heaven and its hell... the bizarre part comes from... well... instead natural numbers, it has what appears to be, uhm, the fibonacci series, uhm, very strange indeed.

7. A battery-powered lantern, perfect for domestic blackouts, it carries this inscription in gilded letters: "The memory of your light is the beacon that carries me through the darkness".

8. Note in a paper napkin, with this handwritten text:

"Two thoughs: 1. To this day, I believe you are both the seed and the ground; 2. Days are a thousand-hour long without you, which is ridiculously long... when all I need is a second of eternity with you".

Sándalo Naranja

THE BAREFOOT DANCER

Everyone knows how dreams
are fragile and ephemeral things

But

H
O
W to forget her feet, ever...

the dancer's, the one at the left

[the charming one with the peacock feather
and all the air to be very clever;
she has all the features a dancer may need
but right now I am totally in love with her feet...]

[... released from their shoes to play naked,
white and free in their lustful gleam
I am already feeling half-baked
in this foolish charlestonian dream]

Wondrous Woman
On a
Wordless Wicked White Walk

Someone stop her please
Or then
Someone stop me!

[to tease me dearly she goes
Spirited and Wild and Tender
with those Mesmerizing Toes
I am ready for a Sweet Surrender]

And here I am,
her true Footman

Literally
Unashamed
Slave
The Man at her Feet

[left me wondering how would it all 've been
if I had dared to barely brush her skin
or to accompany her hands' joyful dream
or to glance at her aquamarine]

Goodness me,
such steamy thoughts, what a sin!

Oh my, please god please

Gorgeous Glamorous Danseuse
Ocean Child Délicieuse
Don't ever allow this dream into oblivion

THE THOUSAND HOURS

There are one thousand hours in a day without you, yet just one minute of your eyes on me, just one minute of your light, shining on me, would be enough to undo the thousand hours, to revert all the thousand small deaths, only that light, I say, would be enough to freeze that deadly time, that muted distance, perhaps to unlock the eternal now and here, so I will sit here, expecting at any moment that light flooding through my window, washing down all my shadows, all my little deaths.

Sándalo Naranja