The magic world of poetry and music
The magic world of poetry and music is always free. Sadly, people are ever more likely to stray the realms of paradox, and so we have the paradox that people often seek power and power without understanding that the most valuable thing in life - love - is free. In poetry and music, we can find that treasure we have been searching for all our lives
Yesterday, while driving my good old Ford Mustang, I'm glad to admit that I sincerely enjoyed the wonderful music and the harmonious velvety voice of presenter Jelena Balent, who does a great job with her 'Moonshadows' show, has extensive knowledge of jazz and, what's most important, has a god-given gift of being able to reach people's hearts, thus floating along the path of dreams into the hearts of people, adorned with the harmonies of immortal evergreen nightingales and unforgettable country and western songs, with a soul for the souls of all of this world's dreamers.
Yes, moonshadows lead their dear dreamers along the path of dreams into those higher domains where that celebrated love roams... and I am glad to repeat it for the sake of those dreamers who are so dear to me - yes, dear people, poetry and music with a soul have the honor of enriching human souls with love and compassion in the arena of life...
Yes, evergreen music, dilligently and lovingly presented by the male and female presenters of Radio Sljeme, is the path of dreams to many a dreamer, and so there is nothing left for me to do but to respectfully repeat that when the harmonious tunes of immortal nightingales travel the dreamy air, my dear old radio purrs like a tomcat, as if caressed by some dear invisible romantic soul... It is an honor for me to admit that this radio was given to me as a present by the great late professor Dickenson, just like the old typewriter which was occasionally used by the immortal Hemingway (the professor used to tell me in a fatherly voice - son, like most poets with a restless spirit and vivid imagination, you shall more often be hungry than not, but when depression gets you down on your knees, find your strength in music and verse. And, fair enough, whenever depression entwined my fragile poetic soul in silky cobwebs, the music of the old radio and the typewriter would blow the webs away, lifting me up to my feet). From my early youth, I roamed the world inseparable from those two things that are most important to me - the old radio and the typewriter. I would sooner die of hunger than sell the old radio or the typewriter, by God, because to me these aren't things, but an invisible tie that connects my restless spirit with those higher sacred domains, of which angels, my brothers in arts, have daydreamed.
And so, I am not ashamed to admit that sometimes, while having a closer look at life, I may stray into the deep forest of depression, because to see tears in the eyes of many a mother whose children are starving cannot leave one impassive, and these sights have a devastating effect on my timid poetic heart, as if I was the one to conceive these tears instead of some reckless people who enclose themselves under a glass dome, as if that might help them escape the cries of those in need. My dear muse often wisely tells me to find my strength through verse and prose, and so it is. When I create poetry or characters dear to me in a new novel, I feel like blissfully floating in some holy purity but, when I descend upon the face of the earth, reality sobers me up. Thank God, there are many more wonderful people with hearts and souls who mercifully give birth to hope within human hearts... why do we care about their sick struggle for small and great power, money and gold that merely poison both their souls and my soul - this is what I often wonder about. After all, you can't single-handedly fight the oldest among human sins, because you might eventually get infected... in love, poetry and music you should find your path of dreams that leads to those higher realms, where love mercifully awaits everyone regardless of race, gender, religion or social class spreading its angelic wings. You might say that it's just the vivid imagination of a poet, but so what if it is? What if that Better World is built on imagination? It is still closer to the heart and the soul than the real world made of endless power struggle, lesser and greater greed and envy... Perhaps you were not aware of that, but poetry, just like soulful evergreen music cure both the soul and all of those small and big stress that causes all those invisible, yet deadly diseases like heart strokes and brain strokes, malignant tumors, high or low blood pressure etc... Inner harmony is the best cure for all these terrible diseases...
Therefore, I would once again like to thank all good will people who spread love along the path of dreams, in art and journalism, as well as all of life's segments because, eventually, praise the Lord, all the people who roam this one and only planet of ours, regardless of their race, gender or religion, crave love and attention much more than needless hatred and greed. So, people,love each other, and belive in love This wonderful life teaches us wisely that love is like a holy ploughman sowing the seeds of life along heavenly grooves, leaving indelible traves in the sands of time... the more love, the more happiness in life. The journey along the path of dreams leads us to the land beyond the rainbow.
The inexhaustible well of life
All my life I've been searching for treasure,
Fickle destiny was the sail of my life.
At the end of the long journey I realized
That treasure is not to be found in a golden chest,
But within the human heart.
Love shines most brightly when imprisoned in the darkness of solitude.
Even though it was offered empires by many,
It remained true to itself,
Because love cannot be bribed,
Just like death,
Carried along the rooftops of the world;
There is no ear that can hear it,
No eye that can see it,
Always barefoot, quietly marching on grass, desert,
Water, sea, following people
More closely than their own shadows.
My one and only, the closer I approach death,
The closer you are to my heart.
Slowly, very slowly you become reality;
Reality conceived from tens, hundreds, thousands of dreams
Falling down the steep cliffs of the subconcious
Into the inexhaustible well of life.
My one and only, when you are close to me,
I am not afraid of death,
Because when I look into your eyes,
It is as if I am looking into the eyes of infinity.
After many a lonely year of treasure hunting,
Now I can finally fall at Your feet
And clearly and loudly say:
"My one and only, the greatest treasure of all is
Hidden within Your heart.
I love you!"
©Walter William Safar