THE MAZE

Yesterday, you, new Theseus, con dedalea Maestría, sprofondavi in ​​your labyrinth, you specchiavi the monstrous image and you came back to fly ...
Today, you, the monstrous intricate and complex network of your Life, no more craftsman of your encouragement, trapped and mocked, the manner of Aphrodite and Ares, by a demiurge (Efesto?o da te, inevitable executioner?), eternally anguished, You can not fly, or you do not know ... maybe ....


 

A day. I do not remember the date. My memory deletes details. It goes beyond. E, in overcoming that limit, perceive, the mystery. And 'good or bad cross the threshold, hole in the wall that leads to Hades?
The mystery farfalleggia, claims consents.

A day. Usually day. While a glow creeps and imposes awakening, while the spasm greenhouse breath, while a thousand stray dogs rub the walls, a re-thinking back….the amazement of her.
Whispers:” Theseus…Arianna….”.
Un big event. Not by snacking. Go in with the thought of the heart.

And there are….in the labyrinth. Not for courage. Alone, dramatically reduced, vibrant humanity, I feel called. A voice. A Force attracts me…..l treacherous Case?… The Good News?…….

Within. I head there, where the monstrum lurks, the bottom more’ background. Fasten, see me with his eye lopsided and return back. Bearmi different light. Claim victory. For me and for others.
” Possible ?” and waving her hair. E’ possible… …if the will succor.
” Force, taurine strength, that dance and laugh insolent, deaf to all prayers, leave the house, lends help….!!!” I invoke.

Already inside….lost…exhausted.
After a few steps not giant, I curl up in a corner, a place shadowed, a hollow dug by others. On one point winds a pavement gutted, sterposo, then, the curve, a slice of proper road and still burrows, protrusions and recesses and branches left and right.
“Weirs, if not t'avvedi that the ground is riddled with holes, Who Swallow and cancel.”
That land tortuous foments remember: We hope. Indonesia. For nine nights, in nine different places, nine families of men perform a dance for three voices : the maro dance. Five thousand years ago. At the center lei, Rabie named, the maiden moon. Every night of lavish gifts: chinaware, gold jewelry, objects of copper.
Men feel envy. The bury. “Pay the penalty ” It enshrines one that is very high.
It begins the ponos, the effort of living, the journey through the door to nine scrolls. The maze. They will be men who will be crossing, the rest wandering souls or beasts.

And Persephone ? She too maiden lunar, in proposing the eternal cycle of birth fertile growing death.
Persephone: great insight….all that glitters in the sunlight reveals a ” justness “, whose origins are obscure, rooted in the border of the non-being.
It is given to man to capture the essence of non-being through the mysterious message, the dark path, the deep yearning. Magnificent gifts of an ambiguous goddess.

And I go back to the labyrinth, to my trip. Pre-see and re-injure. That's the way. A faint whiff. A muffled breathing. Who does not want to appear. Scrutinize and unseen. Next to me is he. Man Metis, Theseus. So tanto di lui. Plutarch revealed the exploits, immortalized the memory. They are a step away from the man secret. E’ immense in size unreal. Godlike: Jesus', Krishna. It has a mission. Purifying. The miasma contaminate men, things.
It is not affecting the normal position.
E Pasifae, victim of plots thin, beyond common eye, He has dared so much:an unusual story.
Burns with love.
A relationship that evokes roots beastly, source of many misdeeds. It joins with the bull, his father, Zeus celeste.

Eterno dilemma:
tightened in reduced spaces, where cement cockpits oppress the senses, where sheets attractive imprison even breathlessness, and there is crack of starvation, battered by lashing wind and sometimes dried by the hot sun or…fly so high and disappearing light light….

Wings dedalee succor. A flight” cultuale ” free from the tentacles of the maze. The chorus of women Trezene, nell'Ippolito, sobs:” If in inaccessible places on earth I was….or bird, that the door wings, levarmi in volo…..”

The hellish despair creates a yearning for high spaces.

And Pasiphae was open to the sky, making the impossible, destroying taboos'. The result is a dual nature:half man, half beast.

your, that you immerse yourself in this reading,
you, that nothing arrogarti, budgets thought,
headstrong, hammers rock hardened holes…holes…e
your mind is full of vain bravado,
oil gushes
It offers bullion
e tu, you destroyed the earth, rejoice…

….suddenly the smile off
show your nakedness
You put your clothes to what you've played
….from the rubble and the debris forward thrust,more’ their…

The life :”Crossing from one end.”
Inside the arch you're there with joys and worries, instinct and reflection.

I'm afraid. That place, shaped guts, It reminds me Chumbaba, a demon. Gilgamesh has approached. He killed him, He has solved the problem.
He found that only the gods is not given die.
Man dies more’ times and each time suffering from the most '.
Perhaps they are in Hades. In total darkness. I sensi all’erta. The veil, overshadowing the objects in any way, It disappears and I see more '.

I see larvae that do not twist the neck.
Animal remains rapaci.Una wall splattered with red.
Man has left a trail.
An old man about to drink…..the milk of wisdom.
Leans against a rock checked
a woman…without hair….stagnata….
blocked by common sense. And giant worms.
Satiated with every filth. And syllables, launched so.
They wait for strong hands and remain in the balance.

Chi sa dare forma all’informe? Which voice, emerging from the labyrinth, prophet of what will?

E’ too much for fear me.Torna. Theseus is ahead, away from me. I have broken wings. There is a way to stand by him. The rhythm of the heart. My legs, Pure farm, beating up, Now tenacious now urgent, and hands, Calcanti hips, parade through the wire.
Yup, the ball. There salvation, the ability to sdipanarlo and raggomitolarlo. Meanwhile discover “the direction”, the much sought. "De-line" is out of the commonplace, tax, selfishly adjusted. I want to "limp", how Oedipus, to look at the complexity at that line of reasoning I cling.

With the help of the hero advances Arianna. Sfingeo, ambiguous in research. A slow steps proceeds, spurred by the subtle charm of the doubt, by the tension that the greenhouse throat, the pleasure of being there to groped the company. Theseus proves master at unraveling the thread. His step is a dance, a movement in perfect cadence, “a rescue “. E’ dance in the life. We must proceed with respect for the right fit. Of ” dance of the cranes ” Plutarch speaks. Theseus dance in honor of Ariadne, a Delo, imitating the maze.
The gru….mystery….sense autumn…l'al in là….
Even in Homer I read the dance of Theseus.” They danced a row against row, a Front of the other. A movement to circle. Then the head moves in the opposite direction….”

It not dances a moment of ecstasy,
a moment of absolute freedom,
” where the” you want?…..

Theseus holds a knotty stick. It blocks. Nell'effigie has run across a man. Astute in handling a pair of dice. The sum is always the one desired. Senno subtly shrewd. Get what you want. Si ode un rantolo. A groove is impious drops. A pour is his soul. Left blank, tired, spotless. A man in the middle.
Theseus lingers. Just a moment. Legs powerless. More’ in there waving a flag. It reads a dictate, dwarfing :” Engaged in sunlight”. A dictate fitting, inevitable. The times polluted. The prelates are, to pull the reins, to sever hearts.

If you cancel the Silence,
whether prohibiting the two a secluded place,
if you suppress the heat that the mystery of the doubt foments,
what about love?.

Not sperdiamo what little remains with radical judgments,
that lead to nothing!!!!….

There is a man who worships the Net. invokes, He loves and hates his brother, friends, does not remember the work of the ancestors, bloodshed. In the name of profit, the ancient Athenians emasculated the Meli, depriving them of their liberty.
Theseus curves on a. A strange, anomalous. Wavy hair, long neck. A white coat comes down and covers her feet. Slender hands, devoid of nails, fanned. And that look on which I do not know the laws and the will of the yes.
Method Oedipal, not many discovered.
The hero, tempered in the forge of hell of a master, who supplied him with weapons vital, animosity and rationality, ode un lamento. A few more steps.
Pasiphae with son: the minotaur.
Cries the mother, crying son. Hungry monster, human flesh. Slow in coming.
The great Mother feels guilty. Does not accept so much heartbreak. But she is not guilty. Only a God can stay in Eden, where faith reigns, where the great non s'incaponisce nor fight for himself.
In the enclosure of the human being a mixture of odors flavors colors.
The choice is up to man.
Theseus pities. It includes. In the darkness of Hades light more’ chiara. E, portraying hands, He threw the stick into a corner, convinced that violence, however operated, It is a bad and his darts still lethal, begins the journey back. A journey without injuries. In return a knot of joy.
” If is MATHIS “.
He learned wisdom through pain.

Wise not to kill the man in the middle.
The observed, spied, approved.

Theseus will send, blow harmony, learned in the hidden access…?
I know, after being there sunk, return back, fly without spikes…?
I may be wandering forever…?

luciarsi90@gmail.com

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