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Blue memories

Writer, author, short story writer, poet, youtuber, blogger.


Old pictures

I transfer the incandescent daydreams to the darkness of pessimistic thoughts, located in the encrustations of a transitory madness; delineating in the morning oil of an ancient artist; I guess to contemplate the work of his talented hands, smiling at the shadows that pass close to nature.

He does not know that I am here, close, next to him; he doesn't know because I'm invisible. And I behold his ancient clothing; the men look like damsels; with long hair and those fluffy shorts with stripes; the sleeves of his shirts, puffed out and a vest, to conclude. Enough! I will not digress more…

I continue; the gentleman displays his art, drawing an exquisite work, resembling a photo; Total success! At that time, photography did not exist, and with his excellent art he captures the features of concurrent individuals in celebration. He also captures the landscape made up of fruit trees, farm animals and horses. I speed up and stop in time, I am entranced by the slow Flash of this old photo; modeled with brush, watercolor and innate talent.

I recreate the vision ; also observing the groceries delights, which some people taste who hastily bought from the vendors of the green fair. Some children play with toys made of wood and the girls' dolls are made of rags, although the most precious dolls is in their homes; the precious glass dolls, so delicate that they only rest in a seat of extreme care.

The fair event is native to the popular classes; therefore I do not see carriages; nor elegant costumes, only that of the painter, who apparently enjoys capturing the customs of the plebs as a captivating spy. Later he will show his splendidness to the aristocrats of his friends.

The painter smiles and I observe him very closely, I can almost touch him, his spirituality radiates happiness; I examine the halo that surrounds it and it shines because it reflects love, aptitude and curiosity. His blond hair reflects the bright sun, it seems that it fell off and lodged on the head of the talented painter...


Great heights

I move away and contemplate other latitudes: now I am at great heights; I pick up pieces of clouds with my hands and taste one; it has a sugary taste, nectar that I mix with the intense fear of heights.

This fusion is exciting; it makes the earthly vision more enervating, accentuating the blush and the challenge in frank transversal experience; the rivers are small and blue currents of intense life and the trees are small and upright thoughts.

A green carpet decorates the lofty view; it is the vital basis for the perception of the purity of nature that radiantly dresses in gold; color granted by the optimistic star king; valuable and preferred object of God, in our dazzling galaxy.
The whole stage is beautiful; but small; I see people, many people, who look like ants.

I feel close to God; great; and at the same time insignificant when glimpsing the magnificence of the green and celestial universe...

The height makes me dizzy and I persevere in this scene; memorizing the intensity of this unforgettable experience. It is a privilege to be above all things.


The awakening

The awakening
How long will I stay here? Two minutes, two hours, two centuries or two eternities? God only knows. A brick house appears in my consciousness and suddenly I wake up, on a soft and comfortable bed.

I meditate and reason. Was it a dream? I open my eyes and pinch myself, am I awake or am I still dreaming? Or will I be in both situations 'daydreaming'? I confirm that I am conscious, feeling the pain of the pinch and I smile...

I smile at the welcoming wall, which smiles back at me, emanating from itself an enormous security of welcoming feeling. The wall protects me… It is God's intermediary element… It protects me from the world and its evils. There is nothing safer than being in my bed protected by my trusty wall.

I tell her all my secrets, my dreams, my illusions; she knows everything. And everything is silent, she is my friend, to whom I go when I look for God and in a certain way I glimpse him on the impassive wall. It is reality, God is great, he listens to me and answers me. He never forsakes me. He is my loving protective and helpful father.

To his son Jesus, I give my heart, asking forgiveness for my sins and I pray to God in his name to grant me wisdom and understanding; but above all safety and health to my loved ones. I love you heavenly father.



Life goes on. You have to face reality. Not everything is dreaming, and floating. Sometimes, you have to fight to achieve the desired victory. And fighting implies starting from the bottom, the task, to achieve the achievements. But even so, treading these logical reasonings,

I consider that you should always delight yourself, even if it is a little with the fantasy of the magic letters. Chase them into the enchanted forest and contemplate the scenes arising from the privileged minds of God.

I approach multiple worlds and diffuse small spheres of emotion with the avidity of innate curiosity, inherited from other lives. The stories parade with their picturesque characters, dressed in ancient clothes;

The poems of yesteryear distill honey and acid, but I assimilate them well, with pleasure and satisfaction, understanding that not everything in life is sweetness, one has to bear the bitterness of other beings who wander in the darkness of darkness... We have to placate those wretched people with tons of tolerance.

But not; everything has a limit. Because I can forgive attitudes, but I do not forgive verbal or physical insults. This is how the maelstroms of a dreamy but at the same time realistic mind are delineated.

Enthusiasm appears on his face and bitterness hides behind the afternoon humidity. The excess drops of a strong rain of emotions, mark the beginning of the refreshing dusk that, raised by trees, unfolds its branches, covering my thoughts of peace and harmony of God.

© 2022 Venus Mary

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