In their eyes, thousands of battles are submerged, some with strong waves, others with calm winds.
His students are the treasure of his life, who keep the secrets of his ways, his travels and his destinies.
- And their lashes.
- So strong.
- But at the same time so sensitive.
- Tell that they sometimes bear the weight of the waterfalls of tears and the brightness of the sun’s rays.
The truth is that when they look at us, they give way to feelings, as if an invisible bridge connected them; sometimes with armor and walls that fall with the weapons of love and tenderness; sometimes, with the doors wide open, to be welcomed with a kiss or a hug.
His lips, silenced by the years, are in no hurry to speak, and when they do, wisdom covers his words, though we only accept your advice just in case.
If we listen to them, do we learn so much, they give us life lessons, unraping their tones.
It is their wrinkles, these folds shaped by the experience of feelings, the strength of the facts and the traces of wounds and hits, which have been growing over the years as a mark that characterizes them.
Wrinkles full of effort, wrinkles full of sensations, wrinkles forged like chains that have endured the weight of suffering, rejoicing of the wrinkles of love, rejoicing of life?
Their skins have withstood the deepest wounds imaginable. Some have already completely healed; but others scarred, which if affected, can cause a storm of emotions.
Behind him, we see the weight of the losses of those with whom he has forged unforgettable steel ties, which does not even physical or psychological distance make them forget; reminding them through the feeling that appears on your skin and comes directly from your heart.
And it is your hands, the cement and the tools of your life, next to your feet, the key to your footprints, that constitute the support of your way.
A tortuous, tortuous, unstable path full of dangers and obstacles, subject to the power of the face.
A path of flowers, pure air and sweetness, in which they savored every moment they could, with the sensitivity of their eyes.
And yet sometimes we forget it. Have we forgotten them?
It is the heroes of our past and present, who make us think that anything is possible, if we wish, this life leaves marks on the skin, but also on the soul, hot or cold, that with its contrast make life feel.
The voice of experience that oscillates between silence and protest, brave hearts that remain there despite storms?Full of knowledge, books of wisdom?
What? Who are you?
The elders, the fall of life?
Did those of your time give you a hand, take care of your stumbles, and teach you that planted seeds have to be watered so that they may in time bear fruit?
They’re there, by your side or at a distance. Waiting for you to love and smile at them.
When you see them, listen to them, can your words be the source of your dreams?
When do you see them, do you understand them, even in silence, because their silence is full of meaning?
When you see them, hold them, for a sincere and sincere embrace, after all, is it a caress in your soul?
And remember: will you ever be a hero of your present and the past of those who come?