with or without you

I had a moment this summer when I was standing at the Sacre Couer, overlooking Paris. There were two men playing guitars and singing U2’S ‘With or without you’ in front of a hundred or so people that were sitting on the historic steps watching them, when the most beautiful thing happened, they started singing along with them. People from all over the world, singing this one song with so much feeling, so much heart. I was witnessing people at their best; connecting with one another. Crossing cultural and linguistic divides to form this one cohesive unit. It was such a magical moment. The sun was highlighting the Parisian skyline, I was at one of the most historical places on earth with a dear friend by my side and about a hundred other friends (whom some would consider strangers) but it that moment (that exact, beautiful point in time) we were all friends. We all loved each other and the world. There were no wars. No bloodshed. No hurt. No heartache. No differences. Only us and the music and Paris, bustling beneath us.

And that is why we are here. For moments like those, when you realize that nothing else really matters except that instant in time and you could live inside of it, forever. But as nothing lasts and moments fade, memories will always remain and our salvation lies in the pure fact that there will be more moments like these; to take your breath away, to make you feel invincible and full of a love that is entirely possible. That is all that there is and all that there ever needs to be.

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Like you I
love love, life, the sweet smell
of things, the sky blue
landscape of January days.

And my blood boils up
and I laugh through eyes
that have known the buds of tears.

I believe the world is beautiful
and that poetry, like bread, is for everyone.

And that my veins don’t end in me
but in the unanimous blood
of those who struggle for life,
love,
little things,
landscape and bread,
the poetry of everyone.

– roque dalton

Above the stars

True, I talk of dreams,
Which are the children of an idle brain,
Begot of nothing but vain fantasy. – Shakespeare, ‘Romeo & Juliet’

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