Quote of the day from my mental institution 1

Gos is not a messenger but He is the true message that lies within.

Lghabt loghba futbol mal-Mulej (dedika lil fr. Joe Galea 1951 - 2007)

Tqabadna flimkien,

int u jien Mulej,

min-naha ghal ohra ta dinja,

u beda ghaddej il-hin,

imma l-loghba damet hafna,

u spiccajt jien Turin.

Hdimt b'hena fost iz-zaghzagh,

tajthom tal-hajja it-taghlim,

lghabt il-futbol maghom,

u int f'nofsna,

w'hekk nghaddu l-hin.

L-oratorju li ghamilt maghhom,

kemm zlaqt jien fuq il-haxix,

u int fis-silenzju kont tilghab maghna,

u kif qatt ma kellek brix?

Kemm konna ahna nitqabdu,

u kemm jghidu li mhux sportivi t-taljani,

imma jien kont niehu pjacir bil-bosta,

waqt l'huma jtennu,

int ikbar minnha Padre Jo,

u qaluli tant li ma kienx hemm bhali.

U ftahna imbaghad centru Don Bosco,

biex bhal dal-qassis,

inrawwem it-tfal,

halli jikbru huma xempju tieghek,

biex b'hekk jghixu hajj'ahjar.

Indum kont nghallem jien lilhom,

sa ma int kont ittina d-dawl,

u bil-qamar tieghek jiddi fuq wiccui,

nirrakonta storja w'l-isbah qawl.

Imma kollox li kien jibda,

xi darba jkollu t-tmiem,

u ghalik ridtni int nahdem,

imma meta HI hakmitni,

ghidt ghalfejn jien?

Il-marda li jien kelli,

infirxet ma kullimkien,

bhan-narcis fil-gimgha l-kbira,

kif jinfirex mal-widien.

U bl-imhabba li int ftaht idejk,

bhal biex tilqa dan ix-xutt,

ridt lili biex nilghablek,

u mis-sema nghajjat zut.

Imma hej ma kelliex sahha,

b'din l-imbierka barka li int bghattli,

ma stajtx nghajjar b'pulmun taljan,

xorta kburi li jien Malti.

Imma naf li waqt li l-ahhar demgha tinxef,

u l-pulmun tieghi qed isir xott,

u l-ahhar bikja tat-tfal tieghi,

issa nista' nitlaq u nigi hdejk,

ghax int bija zrajt sigra li ghamlet il-frott.

Mulej lghabna loghba mieghek,

mhux dik ta' disghin minuta biss,

u kemm pruvajn'ahna nizgicawlek,

u niskurjawlek,

inkiss inkiss.

Imma issa qed nitbissem,

ghax il-logbha waslet fit-tmiem,

hallini naraha ghal ahhar darba,

u niskorja il-gowl tal-qawmien.

Ghax int Mulej bil-marda tieghi,

ghaqqadt poplu bhala wiehed,

u naf jien li b'dak l'ghidt b'fommi,

issa hadd minnhom ma jibqa' sieket.

Ghax huma se jfahhru lilek,

w'tieghek ixxandru l-Evangelju,

sakemm fit-tim taghna jighaqdu,

u jgawdu mieghi LILEK, l-aqwa premju.

Grazzi mill-qalb Father Joe...dak li ghamilt int ma jintesa' qatt.

And counting

I am looking around me in the morning,

it's raining out of the window and I here glance,

and thought of many but many people,

how many lived, died or had a late night romance.

How many started a day,

that unbeknown to them they will never finish,

no matter if they are Maltese or Italian,

living in Japan or calling themselves British.

And I thought of them so eagerly,

as I imagined their yesterday and what they've gone through,

as they looked up to the skies and never but never,

thought that this would be their last sky blue.

I looked at thousands of cars,

passing by me like in a queue,

but I know the way I'm seeing them,

or imagining that their days are countable, true.

I imagined all the people shouting,

or yelling what they need in the early morning,

and with all the hurry that there is,

they have no chance to realise their life's boring.

Then I looked to the people cleaning,

roofs, gardens and the streets below,

I thank God that I am curious,

for the more I learn, the more I want to know.

I heard the sounds of people that woke up before me,

as they make their way to work, they can't stop to rumble,

and I know now so clearly,

the more I listen, the more it seems like a jungle.

I have seen men, women, children,

and for a second I just thought,

we all outlived our yesterday,

but did we really but really thank God?

For no matter what cycle you take,

no path through that pilgrimage,

I might be the Alchemist in life,

but after all I am His image.

And he is blessing me every morning,

with the rays of sun or the drops of rain,

and I know that there might be another tomorrow,

but it will never ever be the same.

So live, love, lovely and truly,

try it as if no one ever tried it before,

for you might know that death is coming,

but you might not be prepared for that knock on the door.

You might have richness, money and glory,

but remember nothing of which you will ever take,

when the Hour comes looking for you,

to take you to God sitting by the Heaven's lake.

So what you do today,

make sure you'll look at it tomorrow,

with head up high, chest up front,

for then it will be your yesterday and if you only want without sorrow.

Live life helping others,

and not trying to be the best,

for the dark shadow will be waiting,

and in peace if so, they won't allow you to rest.

You might not believe in hell and heaven,

or that the Below is the contrary of the Above,

but rest assure that your eyes will one day see it,

that there is only ONE GOD and He's full of love.

So mark my words and look at your actions,

and on others leave no scar, no bruise,

for one day you'll be called to answer,

and according to what today you choose, you will then win or lose.

JV

XVII.III.XI

In life as in death

I have flipped through many pages,

and in none, I have felt like this,

when flowers are dripping over,

everytime, you'd give me a kiss.


I have ran along the desert,

to see if there was a replica of you,

but all the nicest things however, remind me,

that because of you, all my canvases are blue.


You the sweat of what before was sorrow,

you the brighter sun of a better tomorrow.


And like the sailor, I have searched oceans,

to find the condor and the golden city,

and instead I found the greatest treasure,

that was in real life, a girl....so pretty.


And then like Verne's inspiration,

Nemo me impune lacessit,

No one will ever get out of this,

your love is only mine for me to get it.


And like all the history surrounding Pompei,

Your love is the strongest laying stone that I'll ever lay.


Now feel the love, thwirl and dance with the sounds of nature,

blossom on my heart's meadow,

for I need all that you can give,

and in my life to act as my shadow.


I need you to kiss the life that's in me,

the life with all the joy it brings and sorrow,

for with you I can now dream,

and build on yesterday, a better tomorrow.



I will love you always, in life as in death,

for my love is God and God is the biggest, lest you forget.

Labyrinths in question - It's not my fault

I

What a day it was. On a day like this, Rosie used to take little Samko (short in Slovak for Samuel) for long walks in the forest. The ones he enjoyed so much. The leaves were rattling in that little part in Bratislava on the way to the Devin Castle. Along the forest, at the start where the Danube kisses the Morava River, the same leaves were rolling one onto the other, reminding Rosie of the westerns she used to watch, as a child. Typical scenes in such westerns included the dry grass and hay that glided on the sand with the little blows of the wind. After that Clint Eastwood's shadow appeared at the threatening sound of Ennio Morricone's 'The good, the bad and the ugly'.

The only sounds that Rosie could hear were the two rivers bumping into each other along with the sound that the wheels of the wheel chair emitted as they touched the ground. The hair of the golden boy sitting on it was combed perfectly to the right.

Her history lessons as Samko used to call them and taunt her many times with, always started right there underneath the shadow of the historical Devin castle. Owing to its strategic position, the cliff above is at an altitude of 212 meters. Because of the confluence of the rivers Danube and Morava, this point was an ideal place for a fort. Whoever owned this place in the old times, could gain control of the important trade route along the Danube as well the branch of Amber Road. That is why the site above which Rosie and Samko were, had been settled since the Neolithic era and fortified since the Bronze and Iron Age. Later, both the Celts and the Romans built strong fortresses there. Several decades ago, the first Christian church was identified in the part where the Roman ruins were found, located north of the Danube. The castle shadowing them stands just inside the Slovak territory, at the border between Slovakia, till 1993 making part of a greater country Czechoslovakia and Austria. The border runs from west to east along the Morava River and subsequently the Danube.

Rosie worked as an accountant and as a house-wife. Most of the work, she did from home and that gave her ample time to be with Samko. Not only because he was her only child but also because he needed her help. He was dependant on her.

Samko was living his 11th year of his tormented life, but ever since he was born, Rosie - a single mother - unlike many chose to battle for her son. He was born with having the Ribose-5-phosphate isomerase deficiency which in itself is a human disorder caused by mutations in the pentose phosphate pathway enzyme ribose - 5 - phosphate isomerase. He was the only diagnosed patient in the world, thus making RPI deficiency the rarest disease in the world.

The mutations would cause severe contractions that in term caused unbearable pain lasting only few minutes. Until it subdued however, little Samko would see the Calvary, like they say. During one of the attacks, he also developed a permanent infection in the nerve joints, just below the pelvis, constraining him to live the rest of his life in a wheel chair.

II

Stanislav, Stano in short, fell in love with this woman - the blonde petite girl with big blue shining eyes that were always smiling - the first time he saw her.

Eternal love, he used to think.

She was a very nice woman, intelligent and caring. Yes, she was the ideal wife. But there was only one problem. She came from a distant village. It was during the first years of the pro-communist era. Life was difficult. Furthermore his father was the Primate of Bratislava, Dr. Rajnovy. His father was a conservative person. In vain, he tried several times to open the eyes of his son. He also believed in the distinction of classes. That is why he was only elected for one term. He forgot that he climbed the stairs with years of struggle in the post-war days. And when Stano, introduced him to her, he saw a frail woman that needed, not only to be guided but to put her socks up. He immediately refused a marriage between the two classes. A marriage like that was impossible and he subsequently would never give his blessing. She wasn't accepted. But Stano was determined to carry on. He wanted to show her how much he loved her. He renounced his family because of her. That was his one way ticket out of his family, to the dismay of his father. He reached a point of no return.

III

Samko always used to carry an HB size 4B and 6H graphite pencil together with an A3 paper. For even though his disease limited him from doing certain things like other children his age, it did not limit him from doing the thing he loved most. Painting. He was a bright student and very smart and intelligent. All the teachers used to praise him for his incredible effort to succeed.
His paintings were very detailed. He inherited this hobby from his father's side. His grandfather was an apprentice of Salvador Dali during the best of his Catalonia times. In fact Gregorii, his grandfather, had also grown and trimmed his moustache just like the renowned Dali's!

Rosie noticed that her son was painting. He looked distracted. She could see that one moment he was looking right and then he turned left abruptly, observed, absorbed and brushed with his beloved friends. His pencils.

You could see pain in her eyes. Pain that had accumulated throughout these years of sorrow. Life had never smiled to her. In fact she was always the black sheep of the family. And because to a certain extent it was with the death of her father, that she started to breathe again. She was not ready for what was to come.

IV

"I am sorry Pan (Mr) Rajnovy" Prof. Milka said. "We can say, with certainty, that the ultra sounds of your wife are not as positive as they look". He looked very serious at this young gentleman. He was observing his physique and how well built he was. He needed to treat him with respect. He knew well who his father was and certainly he needed to be careful.

"Take a seat please" the Professor continued. "Would you like a green tea or a coffee?"

"Ano (Yes), a green tea, please". And as soon as he said it, he lowered his head in his hands and what were before tear drops now became streams of sorrow gliding across his face.

"Vierka, please bring a green tea for Pan Rajnovy" the Professor ordered to his faithful 22 year old assistant.

He looked down at Stano again and put a fatherly hand on his shoulder and squeezed.

"We all have to go through this in life" he said. "God's roads are unclear and never the same".

"Yes, Professor" Stano said. "But my road seems to be quite difficult. You know that I have been always shadowed by my father and his share of mistakes in this bureaucracy". He wiped his eyes with his handkerchief and continued "And now this". He couldn't speak anymore. Once again he started crying. The tall persona of the Professor was behind where Stano was sitting and recurrently the professor's both hands were now squeezing both shoulders.

"I know Stano. But we all have to be guided by someone and that is what I am doing".

He continued "What I can see is that are several dark spots all over the embryo and quite frankly I can say that I have never in my 37 years acting as a children's doctor seen something like this. I therefore cannot promise you anything but my prayers and all my experience. And I will use all that in order to save your child. I suggest that you don't tell anything to your wife, at this early stage".

Stano nodded. But his head remained down. Then suddenly, he felt the sun reflecting on his face. It was as if God was smiling to him. But God wasn't there. God left him alone. Or so he thought.

Why do you leave me, when I need you most? He whispered. But he was overwhelmed with the answer he heard in his conscience.

I never left you my child. I gave my son to show you the way and save you. But people did not listen to him and instead they killed him.

I have a mission for you and today is your first day. Yes, Stano, you have been chosen. You have been enrolled. But my ways aren't by-passes. My ways are far more difficult. But none of my roads are! The roads that I choose for you can get you a step closer to me, to be like me, to be with me, to live like me, but they indeed bring sorrow and pain in this earthly life but I will be there, right beside you.

The sound still echoed in his mind. Like tiny vibrations waiting to be released. But life, of course is not that easy!!

V

She was lost and like editing her own movie, she was trying constantly to remove the unwanted parts. The parts that brought her sorrow. There was no relief. There was no eagerness for a tomorrow. But all this needed one look. Just one look. In front of her. Her pale hands were holding the handles of the wheel chair and on that wheel chair was the reason for her struggle.

Yes, I need to fight. I need to get my strength. And fight for him. His life would be devastating without me by his side. He had already been deprived of his father by an act of selfishness.

All these thoughts were flowing in her mind. Only the tickling sound of her son's HB graphite pencil brought her back to reality.

He was now still. The thoughts in his mind were afloat like the two kissing rivers. He was scribbling or so it looked like and pausing. Scribbling and pausing. Rosie was now curios of what Samko was designing. She leaned onto his right and looked. On this A3 paper filled only with black and white were the lone figures and designs of one leaf, one rock, one branch, one tree, one window, one house in the backdrop, one little river that ended were it started, one lamp and one bus stop.

Very strange, she thought. But the inhibitions of a mother were put aside. And she let a stream of words flow, leave their brain, where before they transformed themselves from thoughts and from her thoughts became words by flowing deep into the magnified resonance air that surrounded them. The wind felt like whispers. In her head though it was as if another person was there.

No, it can't be possible, she thought.

VI

After visiting her at the hospital, Stano decided what was to become. He came to reconfirm his love. Or so he thought. But history would prove him wrong. His hand still ached from the big bunch of flowers that he bought, from Kamenne Namestie and carried with him, half an hour earlier. He walked towards the hospital.

Unbeknown to her, he knew all. Like the professor. The professor's last words still dangled in his mind.

"He will live but the life in front of him will be a difficult one. You both have to be there for him".

But all that Stano could think was that how of all possible people, he, Stano Rajnovy, the son of the ex-Primate of Bratislava, was going to tell everyone that he had a child but a disabled son.

He was already decided what the next step would be.

He imagined telling Rosie about aborting. But he knew that before, he had to explain the whole situation and that, would destroy her completely. The probable statement that would have come up from her mouth was echoing, no penetrating his mind...'What if not? What if not? What if not? What if they are wrong?'

He entered the room and found her sleeping. He placed her favorite flowers on the side table. Roses. The roses that bore her name. Rosie, like the rose in the hand of St. Rita. The patron saint of the impossible. Her parents named her so because she was born on the May the 22nd, just like the saint's death anniversary more than 5 centuries before.

He took out his pen. The pen she gave him for their first wedding anniversary. It was black with a golden rose and his name inscribed on it. He wrote some words.

Then he went out of the room, closed the door silently behind him. He looked towards the corridor and there was no one. He was on the 11th floor. He walked towards the lift. He pressed the button showing the arrow to go up.

Arriving on the roof he pushed the bar that ran along the door. Outside was overcast. Like the typical weather during the week of the mourning of the Christ. The helicopter bay was deserted.
The security yelled at him to move sideways from the H sign and gestured as if wanting to ask him why is he there. He obliged by moving aside and then he took out one cigarette and waved it towards the security. The security nodded. Stano made a sign that he needed a lighter. The security told him to wait and he went to pick his lighter from the guard room a couple of metres away.

Stano looked down. He was now on the 77th floor. He looked towards the security. Then suddenly he climbed above the railing and glanced once more towards the security. He threw the unlit cigarette 77 floors below. The security knew what was going to happen next and he started running to try to avoid the unavoidable. He was late though. Stano was gone. He had followed the cigarette.

VII

"Samko zlatko (dear), why aren't you using the space in between every drawing that you are doing? Why ruining all that space? Don't you know that the trees take years to grow and we need to make sure that we make the best out of the papers".

"Ja viem, Ja viem (I know, I know). He smiled.

"Mamka (nice way to say mum in Slovak), God created the space. God created the love. God is love. And if the space is love. Then all this space resembles my love for everything that I have painted inside. God gave us air, and the air that we breathe is our space. Now isn't that love?"

He smiled again.

“Everything that we see is unique and rare Mamka, just like my illness. Just everything. I designed one leaf, for it to resemble that God is light for he loves us and his anger every time we betray him is light and vanishes quickly. I did one rock, for it to resemble St. Peter. We are as strong as the rock the church was built upon. I painted one branch and one tree, because we all have to be one in the body of the Christ. I did one window, because we have to look towards the only destination that we have to walk towards, work for...heaven. I did one house in the backdrop, because it resembles that God might be invisible but still there. And one day, even though it might be far, we will finally meet him and use the place that no one ever took, because that place is ours to have. It has been reserved for us individually so when the appropriate time comes we use it. I did one little river that ended where it started, because the circle ends where it starts and the circle symbolizes perfection. And perfect is only God. I did one lamp symbolizing Jesus. The light we shall follow. The bulb we shall lit our heart with. And then finally I did one bus stop, it will be where Dad will be waiting for us, when we will finally meet again".

She was now sobbing. She didn't know if it was because these were the most beautiful words she'd ever heard or if it was because of her son's illness.

"God gave me the space I did not use. Because that space is dedicated to you. You are rare and unique like all the things we see. Like all the things I've painted. And the rare and unique you is taking care of a boy, her son who has a rare illness and is unique because his mum made him so".

He stopped and took a long deep breath and continued, "If I am like this, Mamka, it's not my fault. But I still love you". They both wept and the rivers of tears from both faces met when they hugged each other, and touched each other’s faces just like the Danube and Morava rivers, a couple of metres away.

He grabbed her face in his hands. He saw the tears of joy still running down her face. He smiled.

These last words he said entered like lightning in her brain. Suddenly she remembered of that night when she got and she read that letter. The letter his father wrote to her. His last words.

"Rosie, it's not your fault. But I still love you".

THE END

JV
VII.III.XI

Andean herb

Do we really want to end

the fairytale we've started?

Do we really want all things

to the forever get parted?

Do we really see

that what is meant to be,

will happen,

no matter what?

Even if we could have taken it easier,

and I could have forgot,

Do we really want that there

will be no morning?

When all the sun flowers

will look at you and travel deep,

so they could see the sun 'ats in your eyes,

and our love eternal,

and forever they' ll keep.

The lover is wandering now

in his world 'ats without her,

God how much he wishes that

he controlled his rage,

for the happiness left earth suddenly,

for all the globe is earthed,

and all the world's a stage.

He cries,

then he pauses,

as on his rocking chair,

he now sings,

lullabies to his children,

about angels without wings,

As he looks out of the window,

he resigned himself to faith,

because we live only once,

of his destiny he's taken the bait.

And he now knows,

that some questions remain,

without answer,

like the one inside his mind,

Why did his wife die of cancer?

And on her grave,

on the marble stone,

he now stands contemplating,

and all alone.

He looks at her picture,

the smiling one,

and then as if she can hear him,

starts tickling nature and emerges the sun,

But he knows that now he has to continue,

and leave everything and follow the trail,

for now in his old days,

he's become frail,

but one thing forever he will know,

that the love for his late wife

will forever grow,

and as he is making his last steps,

on his journey's curb,

he breathes the last breath,

sighs, and once more he thinks,

of his wonderful wife,

whom he called,

My Andean herb.

And the candle he lit on the grave,

suddenly goes off,

and the smell of the smoke,

glides along his now wrinkled face,

and enters his nose,

and all this is being registered inside,

and messaged by the brain,

'cause he knows that without her near him,

his life will never be the same.

Tri ling y

Ti volevo abbraciare,

dirti che,

sto male,

perche il mio respiro,

vivo,

ma pesante,

ed ogni stante,

ti penso,

e'se ne vai,

non saprai mai,

che'd ogni giorno,

ti penso, si,

l'ho faccio l'ho stesso,

and I whisper in the morning,

call the light,

you by my side,

as the night,

releases its final breath,

letting go for the day,

mine is brighter,

'ats what I say,

ghax ghalkemm li vera,

lid-dinja dulur,

u kull ma tmur ed issir aktar hazina,

ma nistax nahrab mil- imhabba l-ghandi,

u l-hegga li hemm go fina,

ghax jekk dan kollu miktub ma kienx,

u destin ma hassarx jew ma ziedx,

u int fjura taz-zoghzija tieghi,

imdawwra ma' qaddi irridek,

w'ghal dejjem hekk fjur ,

mohbi, mistohbi u mistur,

u bejn l-gheruq u l-frieghi,

tkun int ghal dejjem tieghi,

ghal eternita mieghi.

Labyrinths in question - Billboards

I

His job was the toughest job on earth. And yes, you could say elsewhere. It included seeing many people, hearing also as much. But mostly, his was also a job of total comprehension. Sort of a judge, but a right one indeed. He had to comprehend all the laments. People had the habit to turn to him, mostly, when they needed something. But yes, there were others who felt the need to thank him.

His son was also involved in his family business. But he died quite young. And he felt really sad about the whole situation. For he was the one who sent him directly into the lion’s den. His son also gave examples through simple situations in life. But people used and finally abused him. Abused of his love. Once, he spoke of a time when someone had even favoured ten people that came to his help and only one finally managed to come back and thank him.

But then as history repeated itself, many times before, it did as well after that. His son was murdered. And finally after many, but many years it was finally clear.He died a horryfing death and was innocent. He was cleared of all charges that were brought against him.

But after that the father still kept on hoping. His office was jam-packed with queries and requests of all kinds. He felt the need to this on voluntarily basis. He was more than sure that there will be nothing that will give him more satisfaction than this. To do it for free. So to speak, he didn’t need bread to live!!

He kept on trying many times. Poor him. He never tired from trying.

Maybe one day they will listen to me, he used to think.

Not because he wanted to show them how cool he was or how important and powerful he is. But because every time that they did not listen to him, they always ended up in trouble. Sometimes in big trouble! There were some that cried, some destroyed themselves, some got hurt, and some lost themselves...big time!! His heart was torn apart in front of all this...

His office was quite simple but had a clear, undivided and unobstructed view to the world below. 360 degrees. It was the highest floor, in that magnificient, space created by himself. From his big window, that he sometimes lowered to get a better view or when he over heard a conversation (and just wasn’t sure if what he heard was real) he could literally see everything.

II

That day he had to come up with yet another strategy. One that worked. Hopefully he would speak with his delegates around the world and he might get a better idea of what to do!!

He looked uneasy. He was always on the go. He looked down and saw that many people, actually a lot, weren't noticing him. He was giving them what to see, what to think and yet...nothing!! He couldn't see them getting destroyed in pain anymore. He just couldn't take it.

So he opted for doing a revision of some things. Even though they might have not liked him, after all. But he was ready to take the risk.

He started giving them directions, what they had to do and what not to do in several circumstances. He opted to give them some new rules as well. At first they accepted gladly, but then they got used to all that and they just didn’t want his help.

“You are not needed” they used to say in unison.

They kept on doing what they wanted to do. They were free, felt free and anything that came directly from him was threatening their freedom. And they certainly did not like that. They had to tell him constantly about it. He received several complaints. After all that what the bosses are for. To lead and to manage, to be caring and understandable, and to offer help and support but at the same time to make sure that they shows authority. But he did not like to act as such, most of the times. I reckon that sometimes he showed too much empathy and he was too much on the side of kind heartedness.

But they were so stubborn.

III

He planned and built a wonderful garden for them, the envy of many. With a lot of masterpieces. But they destroyed it.

When he had to take a drastic decision he always used to give a solution to that - when there were the times of the floods, he even provided them with a specific purposely built boat, out of his own money and products, to be able to save the lot and make sure that his work continued.

But nothing. He felt that with them he was still at the starting point. But he still kept on trying. Sometimes he even needed to punish them. But it was all in vain. They abused of his own kindness.

Then he started employing new people with several tasks. When he was seeking to enrol people, he always tried to make the use of any qualities that might attract the lot. He sent those leaders, wise people, and even those who were considered as holy. He thought that the ‘you have to lead by example’ statement still counted. He thought that good orators would open their heavy eyes and they wouldn’t want to fight against eachother and destroy everything that he gave them and all that they created with him.

He remembered of better times. But they seemed to have happened so long time ago!

Not only but, they did not accept these people. Sometimes they even persecuted them. They used to call them names. And sometimes they would even kill them.

Finally he said “Let me send them my own son”. They would certainly go crazy about him. So intelligent and handsome. And they will certainly find nothing against this little baby. All children are innocent and that’s for sure.

But he was wrong.

He sent along his mum and they were both persecuted. They wanted to kill the baby. But they escaped their beloved country. They fled and found refuge in another country and had to stay there for several years until everything calmed down.

This baby turned into a boy and then into an intelligent and handsome man full of wisdom. He temporarily took over his father’s business as they couldn’t work together. They needed to be in two different places at the same time. And that was practically impossible. So they had to shift.

At first they went crazy about his son. He was a truly holy man. They clapped their hands and chanted songs when he brought them the bread and gave it to them for free. He also was a very good story teller. He used to act as a doctor without qualification. Not that it mattered to them. He was very successful in that. And most importantly he did not charge any money. Just like his father.

But then suddenly, some cunning people protested against him. They accused him that he was gaining a lot of money and he was telling them to avoid taxes and a million other accusations. But all that was false. But even though for the Prime-Minister of the time he was innocent, the Supreme Court found him guilty. But before he was brought to justice, he was killed. And it only took some days to finish this off!! He went trhough a hell of trouble and pain. It was a horrendous torture. No human rights or anything of that sort. But his flesh, face and whole body was unrecognisable after all the beatings. He died soon after that.

Maybe his father was filled with anger but certainly he did not act as such. It all went by soon. For love conquered.

IV

What else can I do? He promptly asked himself.

One day he found himself on a new asphalted road, that they have just simply named highway. All kinds of cars, he noticed, were in a race between themselves and against time. This road snaked through hills and mountains and flat terrain for thousand of kilometres. He noticed that several other companies were trying hard to beat his style. And even on the road they managed to install billboards with a lot of false statements and advises.

He was trying to read them in the mean time. They had all types of nice, catchy and attractive phrases. While circling around he also noticed that now they’ve introduced a new light to shine through the night. A screened billboard.

Wow, he thought. They are certainly up to it.

He looked to the phrases again…they had the same messages lying underneath…conditioning their sub-conscious…poor them. They looked like the new commandments, Wash your teeth with this xxxxx and you’d be happy…your smile will…satisfy your hunger with xxxx and you’ll live longer…use this cream and you will stay healthy and look nicer…Vote for xxxx we promise to… buy the new xxxx and get a discount…wear this xxxx and every one will look at you in a different way…One billboard after the other like dominos. Everywhere. Bigger than churches and more frequent of course!!

He stopped in a parking lot, where there were a lot of these billboards. He wanted to study passers-by. And even if they were on the highway, people still slowed down to look. Not all of them but most of them did. They looked towards these new prophets that were illuminated more than heaven itself. Everyone was looking in awe at these messages of salvation. But what they foretold was all materialistic. He went to shopping malls. He noticed the same thing. His journey continued. More billboards. More people that stopped. Smiling faces, laughing ones. Sad, happy, sultry…everyone was at least taking a look. Sometimes even queuing. Those who were with their cars stopped. And they bought, wore, swallowed, ate, showered with and took anything that these ‘holy’ billboards said.

V

Then it hit him. That’s what I’ll do, he thought. I think that's the best way to use, in order to get them. To pass on my message.

And so it was.

The following day, whoever was in the car, driving through shopping streets, visiting malls, or big shopping complexes that shadowed St. Peter’s square in Rome in size, saw the new bill boards that were put up. Most probably during the night. They all looked the same. Light blueish coloured with few words written.

• · Dearest, don’t drink & drive. You are not ready to meet me.

  God your friend.

• · Are you paying your bank loan in time? Can you imagine if I’d ask you to pay me for the air you're breathing daily?

  God your friend.

• · Thinking of investing? Invest in your eternal life today and tomorrow!!

  God your friend.

• · If by any chance you woke up this morning and found no sun light shining on your face through the window, or did not see sunset cause of that, don’t worry. I will make another one for you tomorrow.

  God your friend.

• · You’ve had enough? You think you don’t deserve to live? You think you are nothing? I created you. I gave you life…from nothing!!

  God your friend.

• · You are worried because I took a loved one from you? I gave my own son to the world and they killed him.

  God your friend.

• · If you think that Mona Lisa is a master piece, then take a look at my master piece - look in the mirror.

  God your friend.

• · Which commandment that I gave to Moses, you still can’t understand?

  God your friend.

• · We have to talk a bit. You & I.

  God your friend.

• · And when I said you should love your enemies…I wasn’t joking. I did that before you!!

  God your friend.

• · You chose the paths you will take in your life!! Do you want to have me as company?

  God your friend.

• · What can I do to show you I love you & I will forgive you…no matter what? Send you an email maybe? Or some junk?

  God your friend.

• · Look around you. I am everywhere. If you don’t believe wait till you see me!!!

  God your friend.

• · Do what you want in your life, but then remember you have to give me an account of how you used your freedom!!

  God your friend.

• · Love me like I love you for I don’t love you like you used to love me when you had bad days. My love is stable and immortal.

  God your friend.

• · And remember…here is a temporary stay…my hotel is deluxe…uncountable starred and eternal…

  God your friend.

We should listen to our heart, cause our heart is love and love is God.

Jack Vella

III.III.XI

My rose, my world, my most beautiful flower.

I listened attentively this morning,

To the sounds of nature calling,

To the water falling,

Beneath my person,

A life’s lesson,

It was as if I could hear the leaves moving,

In slow motion,

And I befriended Merlin,

To give me that magical potion,

To give you my one life,

And all that for I did strive.

I noticed that where all the flowers

Directed their vision,

It was like a circumferenced shape,

Waiting for a perfect incision,

Like a mother waiting for her child,

Like a lioness in the cage,

That now free and running wild.

But then suddenly destiny knocked,

And in form of an angel showed me,

That Merlin’s potion wasn’t enough,

Love would be love,

But life would be tough.

So I went silently to meet them both,

And I found love when I turned that corner,

Without any raised engine to start,

I found love tremendously in you,

And I found all the air I needed to breathe,

Everything à inside your heart.

So I turned my back to you temporarily,

As I faced what destiny wrote for me,

And I asked if life and love are the same,

But the reply was simple,

Life is love, love is life,

No mountain to climb,

No stars will wane.

For your love is as true as the rain,

Your love might be bloody,

It might bring pain,

Your love might evolve around me,

Might need all the four seasons,

As I shout, out loud –

I love you, I love you,

And am here giving you my reasons,

For the fortifications cried,

The patriots that within they died,

But when the sky was not blue,

When there remained nothing but the few,

I stood like a knight in no shining armour.

And then I had an apparition,

And in it I was the farmer,

Given the flower,

And someone told me,

That everyday I had to show love,

As if it comes directly from above,

And this flower,

Daily to shower,

With qualities that make sense,

In this ocean of love so immense,

And silently I discovered,

As years went by,

Without me knowing why they fly,

That the more I showered,

The more beautiful she got,

That I could never let,

Myself to forget,

That she was and will always be,

Till the end of the last hour,

For she is forever,

My rose, my world, my most beautiful flower.

Sodda Battala (Empty bed - poem in Maltese)

Nqum, nistejqer,

nhares lagenba,

hemm qalb li qed thabbat,

lil ohra tistenna.

Imma l-imhadda,

li xi darba ras iffurmat,

li issa bhal destin kiefer,

kulur sfumat,

nifs fgat,

ghax nimmaginak biss nista',

tqum mieghi,

wid-dinja tieghek tkun ukoll tieghi.

Imma f'dil-hemda bahh,

ma hemm xejn li jfakkarni,

li go dis-sodda,

xi darba kien hemm tnejn,

niehu nifs il-gewwa,

u nhares,

lejn ix-xemx li qed tiddi fuq wicci,

li turini li kemm fis-sewwa u fid-dnewwa,

il-hajja tipprezentalek testijiet,

f'forma ta' intricci.

U waqt li mill-lvant timxi,

hi bil-mod bhal xih bil-bastun,

lejn in-nofsinhar,

w'imbaghad jiena nimmagina u wahdi ngedwed,

kif iz-zmien li flimkien qattajna kien tar.

Imma meta int kont tqum magenbi,

kont tant inhossni ahjar.

Ghax dawk id-drabi kollha,

li konna jew naraw film jew nieklu l-lewz,

nistenbhu bl-alarm tieghi filghodu,

jew bil-mijiet min dawk il-bews.

Trid te?, kont int isaqsini,

biex tiehu hsiebi,

taghdirni, tifhimni, w'tismghani,

x'rigal zejjini bih Alla,

fl-ahhar staggheb kull min rani.

W'illum dil-qalb wehidha,

fuq is-sodda ghax maghha m'hemm hadd,

qeghda thabbat mija mija,

hekk kif in-namrat,

jahseb fin-namrata,

u f'dak iz-zmien meta kien go fiha.

Imma wahdu 'llum fuq l-imhadda,

u s-sodda b'nofsha vojt,

wahdu jtenni l-kliem u jsaqsi,

jekk mhux ghalekk, mela ghala?

ghaliex wahdi jien hawn qieghed,

wahdi rieqed, wahdi nohlom, wahdi nqum?

U mill-gdid irid risposta ghal dik l'ghala,

ghax minghajrha hdejh, hajtu kollha hi,

bhal sodda battala.