We paint the ceilings of cathedrals, palaces and museums. We fill the cities of lit towers (many times unnecessarily).
You paint the starry night sky, that points to paths in the infinite, and that brings us distant echoes of possible consciences.
We build mattresses, latex foam, and a lot of synthetic materials that some people are striving to turn into needs.
You give us the hidden comfort and the freshness of the sand on the beach at night.
We yearn amassing wealth.
You make the rain every season, and you make growing the grass of the meadows every day, and you moulder the grass that we try to amass.
We build clocks to capture time.
You give us the time to make us free.
We invent borders.
You give us an unique landscape, diverse, beautiful, spontaneous, a land that has caused us, a land that sustains us in life, a planet more powerful than us.
We cement nature, and turn it into plastic, or into slab, or into turret, or into tar, or into street, or into shopwindow, or into promenade, or into beach bar... and we think that with this actions we improve nature. We believe that with this course of action we turn nature into a more beautiful reality, into a more human reality.
You did nature as nature is. And nature, how it is, made us as we are.
We put tiles on the top of beaches. We bury sand's dunes. Sometimes, we encircled dunes with ropes or with wooden walkways. We do it for reassuring consciences or for decorating political programs. We delete the traces of ancient landscape, the landscape that was sculpted by the wind and the waves .
You did the sand dunes as beautiful as the breasts of the women, to perpetuate the cycle of life and sand. You have marked your stamp on sand's dunes.
We design and paint the flags. We distribute people by ideologies or classes. We invent enemies, and we define the opponents in detail.
You turn us into humans. You make us kids. One day, we grow and perhaps this is our biggest blunder.
We make dresses... golden, bright, elitist, and uniformizer ones...
You give us the bare skin, the most beautiful burst of light beneath the sun .
We demonize the breasts of women. We hide breasts with yearn, and we criticize women who bear discovered breasts.
You made the breast of the women as beautiful as the hills of the Sahara under the sun. You made breasts as mysterious as the life flowing from the Earth. You made breasts as dazzling as the clear waters of a creek. You made breasts as maternal as your love over us. You turned breasts into a lighthouse, into a metaphor of your love, into a food of life, into love's language... We have stigmatized breasts with the sign of the sin and scandal .
We invent you as if you were sweetened, sometimes avenger or vindictive. You manifest yourself as a free being, and carefree, rebellious, brutal, artist, mysterious, and above all loving.
You have commanded the slowness of the afternoon, the softness of the nap, the silence of the after lunch hour, that slows the day, and that gives us the pleasure of rediscovering ourselves, and the happiness of enjoying doing nothing.
We have sold the minutes. We have agreed a price for the time, including VAT, in order to be useful in the productive machinery that weaves the clothes that we use to dress God and to distort God.
We doubt ourselves. You trust us.
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