My Precious love can only come from above In unity is born a kiss of dignity My Precious love will only come from above And there you wish away And with the least they met You love better Precious love Precious love Precious love Precious love Precious love Precious love Precious love Precious love Precious love Precious love
by Lisa Gerrard
My friend Kristine Blackadder told me about a strange song: Space weaver, by Lisa Gerrard. I listened to that song and saw its video. A woman dances, alone in an empty space; she wears a very large black dress. She keeps her hands near her hips and her arms are bent, so I can imagine two eyes, two gaps of light in the black of a mask. Her body is also bent, as to simulate a nose protruding from a mask.
A black mask.
The song flows and the woman dances until that mask seems to vanish and the woman becomes what she really is: a woman.
She becomes herself, without any mask and far from any dream.
An expression recurs obsessively, maybe as a prayer invocation, surely as expression of ineffable desire: Precious love. It is repeated twelve times.
Well… that’s my true love story.
Because my precious love came me from above.
Because when I met my precious love I found myself as unity.
Because my precious love gave and gives me dignity.
Because dignity and love grew and grow again as unity.
Because I saw and see what to love means.
Because I became me, taking off any mask.
Now I’m faded as autumn brown leafafter blushing with her last day's fireafter green, sun, wind, sky, free life stylenow I’m faded, I’m autumn. Enoughseeing mirrors, enough seeing masks.After needing to run I need peace,slow long love days in which to be nice.That’s my prayer and that’s what I ask
November, 15th 2016
Thank to my friends Leda and Lemonodo for their suggestions!
As I am, you will always can see. I should be slutness, darkness, curse against life and God, for I’m bad when alone with my flesh: that’s my cry Sometimes I am my beast; I could list all my evils and sins full of nights, grown as wrinkles which hope to be smooth. But I’m a devoted bride, I’m a wife
I’m my skin and my grey shadow, sad, but you can turn me into bright light. Don’t you let me alone with my crowds deep inside my corrupt and fool mind
As I am, you will always may see. I am often impervious to the others: To avoid any abuse, I’m my mask, but you can free myself from my nights
Please, now take me, breathe me and my mind even if I can choke who sighs so close to me. You take me, here, now, just! I’m poor thing, nothing else, without love