Nexus

Mi cuaderno personal en Blogger: http://aquelpunto.blogspot.com/Te siento, Versos para el Apocalipsis
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Añadir a mi perfil | Más Videos El mundo de los sueños,la Onírica Realidad . XXVIAnd wild and high the "Cameron's gathering" rose! The war-note of Lochiel, which Albyn's hills Have heard, and heard, too, have her Saxon foes. How in the noon of night that pibroch thrills, Savage and shrill! But with the breath which fills Their mountain-pipe, so fill the mountaineers With the fierce native daring which instils The stirring memory of a thousand years, And Evan's, Donald's fame rings in each clansman's ears!XXVIIAnd Ardennes waves above them her green leaves, Dewy with nature's tear-drops as they pass, Grieving, if aught inanimate e'er grieves, Over the unreturning brave — alas! Ere evening to be trodden like the grass Which now beneath them, but above shall grow In its next verdure, when this fiery mass Of living valour, rolling on the foe And burning with high hope, shall moulder cold and low. . . STAR of descending night! fair is thy light in the west! thou that liftest thy unshorn head from thy cloud: thy steps are stately on thy hill. What dost thou behold in the plain? The stormy winds are laid. The murmur of the torrent comes from afar. Roaring waves climb the distant rock. The flies of evening are on their feeble wings: the hum of their course is in the field. What dost thou behold, fair light? But thou dost smile and depart. The waves come with joy around thee: they bathe thy lovely hair. Farewell, thou silent beam! Let the light of Ossian's soul arise!Ossian! . Blade Runner
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Añadir a mi perfil | Más Videos .Cold as the marble where his length was laid, Pale as the beam that o'er his features play'd, Was Lara stretch'd; his half-drawn sabre near, Dropp'd it should seem in more than nature's fear; Yet he was firm, or had been firm till now, And still defiance knit his gather'd brow; Though mix'd with terror, senseless as he lay, There lived upon his lip the wish to slay; Some half-form'd threat in utterance there had died, Some imprecation of despairing pride; His eye was almost seal'd, but not forsook Even in its trance the gladiator's look, That oft awake his aspect could disclose, And now was fix'd in horrible repose. They raise him — bear him: hush! he breathes, he speaks! The swarthy blush recolours in his cheeks, His lip resumes its red, his eye, though dim, Rolls wide and wild, each slowly quivering limb Recalls its function, but his words are strung In terms that seem not of his native tongue; Distinct but strange, enough they understand To deem them accents of another land, And such they were, and meant to meet an ear That hears him not — alas! that cannot hear! . Eternal Love 'Deep in my soul that tender secret dwells, Lonely and lost to light for evermore, Save when to thine my heart responsive swells, Then trembles into silence as before'There, in its centre' a sepulchral lamp Burns the slow flame, eternal, but unseen; Which not the darkness of despair can damp, Though vain its ray as it had never been.'Remember me-Oh! pass not thou my grave Without one thought whose relics there recline The only pang my bosom dare not brave Must be to find forgetfulness in thine.'My fondest, faintest, latest accents hear- Grief for the dead not virtue can reprove; Then give me all I ever ask'd-a tear, The first-last-sole reward of so much love!' . .Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning, Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before. ..Surely,' said I, ..surely that is something at my window lattice; Let me see then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore - Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; - 'Tis the wind and nothing more! . Past, Wind and Poetry...
.. . El Yo de mi...Me llamaré Nexus, por la unión de la vida y la muerte, único motivo de existencia. Siempre he creído en el pasado como llave que abre las puertas del presente, busco la cerradura que me libere por fin y me entregue sin miedos a la percepción. Creo en el amor y por él me atrapó la poesía, creo en las Musas de alma y sangre, y en el destino como avance del universo. Nunca me pareció coherente hablar de mi mismo sin vanidad, así que ignoro y paso de describirme. Para eso están mis poemas, suero de mi espíritu, que gota a gota, verso a verso, solo me sentencia a un final, que también ignoro como será, pero que deseo sea, en el húmedo lecho de una hembra.Todo lo que anhelo es entender la vida, como un blues en la noche busca la tristeza, mi única debilidad es procurar no tenerla, porque nací del viento y viento soy, libre por mucho que la gravedad se empeñe en atar mis pies a una alfombra de asfalto, o al manto verde de mi amada Irlanda.Creo en ti y en tu cruce vital conmigo, es la antigua esencia del círculo ancestral, entiendo todo sin pecar de pretencioso, pues a ser maldito me encamino, a cambio de sufrir la mas lenta de las muertes.... Wind & Freedom .. .