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chuckakot · 2 years

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One day, you will understand why the river stops flowing across the borders of the sea. One day, it will come to your eyes, that the flowers no longer sway towards the sun. One day, you will notice that the stars come low and dim their lights. One day, you will perceive in your mind, that not a single word happens to occupy your heart anymore. One day, all that have been given will be returned to its maker. One day, you will remember that this is just the day, the day that love depletes its potion. One day, you will agnize within yourself, the love that you have taken for granted. One day, nothing will become absolute nor present. One day, the warmth that still holds you turned to cold. One day, all of these will make sense. One day, the heart will close its hands and never to set eyes on you again.

— Chuck Akot, Un giorno

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chuckakot · 2 years

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Like the sun and the little birds, and the trees and the willows, and the sound of the breeze coming from the shoreline, and the capers in their salty mood, and the foam of the sea is green, the same with the grass that dances, and the flowers sway along the hillside, and the stench of the oaks, the deciduous leaves arise like mankind, and the mushrooms stand tall like an umbrella, and the wet margins of pond where the snails are sleeping, and here comes February, and here it is then, what a day to just unfold naturally, what a day, and this is how I am going to see, the hope in the soft creases of clouds, and the persistence to hold true to myself, the simple pause is the beginning.

— Chuck Akot

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chuckakot · 4 years

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I could hear your heart beat in my heart– this palpitation twinning us together, in every take of breath,

Chuck Akot, vento di vibrazione

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chuckakot · 4 years

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“Your eyes, a soft glow of sorrow,”

— Chuck Akot

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chuckakot · 4 years

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“Inexpressibly, this love is made for you. This love is shaped whole. I am here, in the balcony, waiting for the sun. Soulfully, waiting patiently.”

— Chuck Akot

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chuckakot · 4 years

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The coincidence of heaven, between your neck and lips, ah, to the quiet repose, of your incurable heart.

Chuck Akot, riposo tranquillo

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chuckakot · 4 years

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“I kissed your ghost in the moonlight,”

— Chuck Akot

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chuckakot · 4 years

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I will love a thousand flowers, but I will only pick one; I will only pick one to feel, that I have lived a thousand lives;

Chuck Akot, impulso e fantasia

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chuckakot · 4 years

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“Why do you always have to be beautiful and so patient like that?”

— Chuck Akot

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chuckakot · 4 years

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In every word, how I recall you and me, this intimate life, naked between thorns of roses, to the void there is a voice, in the voice, I am listening and I answer.

Chuck Akot, nella voce

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chuckakot · 4 years

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I love you as one single grain that gushes the earth rooting in my chest. I love you in this hour, in this day, soul to soul, as time elapses twinning us together, like the splendor of the sky and sea. I love you in those little parliaments, my fantan, my sevens, how do you assemble me? What happens now when you write my name in the sand? When you gaze at me ephemerally, when you are within me, when the pink lotus is growing in your womb, is this a common sharing of fate?

Chuck Akot, piccoli p a r l a m e n t i

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chuckakot · 4 years

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There is a pleasant hunger between a soul and its body.

Chuck Akot

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chuckakot · 4 years

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“I feel like more than a child, but the child in me loves you.”

— Chuck Akot

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chuckakot · 4 years

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I am made of those lovely things, and those that are quiet and mad as if I am crowded with your touch– white, silken touch, which reflects the silver moon, and nothing is more precise and beautiful as that, to be caught by some reckonings, to inhabit you in my life, to be the love that will swallow the stars.

Chuck Akot, alcuni calcoli

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chuckakot · 4 years

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I never wish for your existence, but here you are, totally and utterly: a harp string, a nocturne in the night, what else do I have to take, when you paint yourself to my world?

Chuck Akot, dipingiti

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chuckakot · 4 years

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The city sleeps without me, and everything is in personification. I love the thought of being with you tonight, that moment to be with you– alone, is a sweet juxtaposition, to witness your transition, a pigment in colors, a butterfly in strawberry swing, your cocoon opens: is this love, to fly lifting your wings into the thin air?

Chuck Akot, altalena alla fragola

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