The sun is as hot as a merciless orange. Bodies are half-naked. Souls are afraid of the closeness of bodies. The music thunders and drowns out the conscience. Babies cry and ask to be taken back. The sun shines angrily and refuses to forgive.
The sun is as hot as a merciless orange and still refuses to forgive. The shells on the sand cut into our feet. Bodies bleed because of intimacy. Souls remain far from one another. The sun scorches everything and heats the stardust within our bodies. The sand clings to our hearts. Babies cry and refuse to accept pain as part of life.
You are the lonely man searching for his beloved. In every new body you see your ideal. Nakedness is like an invitation to the last dance, putting your senses to sleep and making you vulnerable. Every ideal falls apart like sand in the salt water. Yet you do not give up. You try to hide from loneliness in the nakedness of another body. You seek refuge in the illusion of the moment, in the uncertain beauty that will dissolve in the seawater.
I am like a seagull that refuses to land on the sharp rocks because it would lose its freedom. I am like a seagull meeting the sun. I am not your ideal because I am not a beautiful naked body.
Your new ideal has red lipstick that leaves a mark on your neck, but not on your heart. Your new ideal is as tempting as a ripe fig, urging you to taste it quickly because its time is short. You are surrounded by naked ideals, but they are no longer a temptation because you become accustomed to beauty so quickly. Beauty keeps you entertained, but it does not lift you. The beauty of naked bodies leaves you tired and even lonelier.
The lifeguard on the beach tries to save the bodies that fall apart like sand in the seawater. But the saviour of the beach cannot save our souls. He sees only our bodies. Just like you, who are left without an ideal after every victory. But you are not a hero because these victories come too easily.
I have spread my wings, ready for my meeting with the sun. I wear no red nail polish. Nor are my lips coloured with seductive red lipstick. My freedom has neither colour nor form.
The sand is covered with shells and sin. The music thunders. Bodies move as if intoxicated by the rhythm. They touch, then fall apart like sand in the seawater. Temptation is what destroys their wholeness because they no longer seek strength, only easy victories and forgetfulness. The salty water washes away the sin and offers hope for a new beginning.
The souls of the people on the sand circle high above like seagulls that have reached a new understanding of life. They fly over the beach, and their cries seem to warn and protect the bodies from sin. The cries of the seagulls are a reminder to keep our hearts whole.
I am meeting the sun. Water is the place where life was born. Water is life. It embraces the people on the sand and brings them back to life. It forgives the sins of their bodies. It washes the sand from their hearts and prepares them for a new beginning after death.
This time your ideal has black hair. She runs after you across the sand. But you are chasing me. You chase the seagulls along the shore, and their flight is a wild call for freedom. Your dream has black hair. She runs after you, searching for your body in which to hide from loneliness. But you have already become a seagull, released from the sand, ready to meet the sun. The lifeguard has already thrown the lifebuoy. Is it already too late to save our souls?
Let me share your pain, man of sand. Let me share the pain of your choices, your weariness and your loneliness. Let me teach you to see freedom.
On the horizon the sun sets like a merciless tomato. And the sail of a ship looks like a waving white banner, telling the world that yet another innocence has been lost in the battle to reach the ideal. Because the heart is full of secrets from which we try to hide. Innocence is what is hardest to attain.
And love walks barefoot along the beach, begging the seagulls for forgiveness.
(Elena S. Lyubenova)
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