Where is my voice? Ooh!

Where is my voice? Where is my mind?

My mind rhymes on its own and so does yours. Where is my mercury? Where is my mind? Where is my voice?

A question is thrown here as a escape rope in COVID-19 lockdown. LET'S GET OUT OF HERE! but HOW?... By finding your own voice.Take a piece of the string and start searching for the inner sun!

That is the principal question you should ask yourself when in the process of strengthening the communication in a second language... or, in fact, in any other language, even in your own mother language. So, "Where is my Mercury?" or "Where is my voice?" and even "Where is my mind?" -as the Pixies sang in 1988 *- are the three the same braided question and it should be taken as the very red Cretan thread. Hold onto it tightly and do not lose it during these labyrinthine times, it may save your life and spirit when you didn't know how to retrace.

Following Ariadne's cotton twine to complete my Hero's Journey. Let me illustrate in few words what I have in mind: to show you with my practice how you can use your English language beyond its practical, common and tedious-business use and move towards the poetic language to find something we can happily call "your poetic voice". For this purpose - and only because there is no better way to teach than being exposed and seen- I will encourage you to do the same exercise by showing you this bizarre article, where you will SEE how do I hunt down words... how do I write and draw, sing and bang fiercely on this keyboard the first spark of wild light that flickers on my way.

There is no better place to be, there is no better string to play or be intertwined. In between these lines the use of a cosmic collage, where a certain amount of sellotape or some sticky stuff has been used, somehow relaxes my sight. It affixes my vision to the screen. I am hoping you like them too and find your own meaning or create new ones... Old myths are being reworked here. It does not scare me anymore to be out-of-tune and manifest myself in a midnight broken soliloquy with no applause.

My mind rhymes on its own and so does yours

I am not here anymore, neither you are.... as if showing the stream of my own thoughts were an inexplicable urgent need to become invisible but recognisable, transparent but revealing. I am your voice; I am your thirst-quenching drink.

I am a mercurial protean liquid. I am.

*A line is like a string. Take a piece of my cord and start searching for the inner sun!

"Sunday Girl" sings it, in my opinion, better.

If in these lines you find any rhyme or cadence or even some grace or logic, it will be by no chance my merit, it will be the Muses'. They are 9 as our visible planets are, and they spin graciously around those who do not fear to listen to their hypnotic hymn, those who do not fear silence and boredom and are, in short, ignited. Are you brave and courageous during this time of crisis? Then, they will rapture you in front of Apollo’s eyes and they will make you timeless, they will confuse your senses till you eat no more and feel no tiredness.

You will definitely light a ritual bonfire and create something meaningful aligned with the present time. The Muses are there -and they will always be- encouraging us to reach two stars more to the left, some to the right... we dance to their drumming all around the community. Trade-offs and balances are needed as well as patient and mediation.

I am at energetic equilibrium in a cosmic dance.

I am finally listening to my inner voice and in this natural scale of Jacob's ladder I can't fall asleep. Right now, after being for so long under pressure, it is shining bright like a diamond over my soft white fluffy pillow without touching it. Is it too late? I can't tell.