Ninguna historia

everything will find its way to this space of silence

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Listen/purchase: Everyday I die by Jairo Lundu

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Listen/purchase: Space of silence by Jairo Lundu

[juldun]

The luminous pain

There is a crack

in our existence

that leads us

to the liturgy of identities

And this is my blind surrender

to the essence of things

The day I turned into a snake, the rain was warm in the eyes of my mother

The night I became an eagle, solid entities fell from the sky of my dreams and ambitions

The day I turned into a lion, the smell of flowers and wine caressed my loneliness and despair

The morning I became a child again, nothing was said in the language that creates the bridge between the unknown and the universe

And this is the nature of fire

the voice of the sun in the veins

whispering

And the luminous pain

that connects me to the earth

surfaces as the language that tells me

that everything will be in place

The intersection

of mystery and beauty

brings me back

Art by @f_licts

[juldun]

In the sacred impermanence of simple things I die Everyday I die In the veins of history again In the sunlight It's like the stars being born From the darkness of existence Is it really me? Am I really who I think I am? I pursue the light I follow the path created by the images of my subconscious mind That side of my self Where obscure desires lay Burials of fear and shame Everyday I die At the gates of sleep at night I die I need to know if this ephemeral condition on earth is my real nature or fate I plunge my self in the silence within Nothing will put my fire off I'll die with the sun Meanwhile Every day I die In the sacred impermanence of simple things I die

Image by Silly @f_licts

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Time flew away, I'm still here.

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Jairo Lundu - Far from everything

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I sold my soul to the devil

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[juldun]

I choose the unknown and the distance

I choose the fire

I choose the abyss

I choose the fall

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Space of Silence

Space of Silence

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“Hay una especie de tristeza que surge cuando se sabe demasiado, cuando se ve el mundo como realmente es.

Es la tristeza de comprender que la vida no es una gran aventura, sino una serie de pequeños e insignificantes momentos, que el amor no es un cuento de hadas, sino una emoción frágil y fugaz, que la felicidad no es un estado permanente, sino un raro y fugaz atisbo de algo a lo que nunca podremos aferrarnos.

Y en esa comprensión hay una profunda soledad”.

— Virginia Woolf

[juldun]

Far from everything