Love is a kind of magic

I fell in love with you. Not as Luigi Tenco: It's not that I had nothing to do. I fell in love with you, because ... could not go another way.

As the card that stands there, alone, and a gust of wind or something else, move it next to another piece of seemingly distinct and distant. A mosaic is not there, not there. A kind of magic: the card can not be indefinite part of a whole, before. It understands only next to that other: the mosaic is made, no one can divide.

Never. Or so I think I read somewhere. Anyway, whoever wrote it must have been convincing, because he convinced me.  I fell in love with you. Not as Luigi: I had a lot of people to meet, on the day. In fact I met them. Beautiful people, ugly, friends, women, females, prey, hunters, extras, masks, protagonists. My ego in the middle, to dance on the world, restless as ever; a face that was laughing and crying, as always.

I fell in love with you. Not as Luigi: the night I did not have much space to dream someone. I was melancholy, sometimes, yes, but I was dreaming with my eyes open and closed, day and night, I dreamed of living, awake, drunk without drinking. I had too much to do to sleep at regular times. I was happy, happiness is not present, that, if there was, lying under a layer too thick of adrenaline, to manifest itself with the revolutionary clarity that should have; I was glad of life, the promise of happiness in the future, I was happy not even know what, even in pain, not at all pleased that the guest had wanted to meet, present, embrace of those hugs that you never want to, yet you can't escape them.

I fell in love with you, even though I had other programs before to fall in love with you, projects to be implemented, to make experiences and emotions to try. And freedom. Highways endless freedom, no one knew where that led, always on the border with its most absolute form, which coincides with the loneliness. Yes, I also wanted the thrill there: to know, but just right, the female universe, maybe understand, finally, that fascinates me so much, as always. And no allusions, you know that it is not a matter of youthful testosterone because I am no longer young, and perhaps not even you, yet ....

But then I fell in love with you. And I forgot what I was looking for, assuming that I knew. In fact, I have not forgotten: it did not matter. I was there, you were there, the two of us, what we should look for? It was all clear, perhaps the fate exists and maybe not ours, in any event, showed up so. In that strange way, including evenings in crowded places and improbable, when we were unaware of the canvas was weaving between faces, thoughts, words, goodbye consumed with grief and given sorrows . Because, as another youth myth say, a rock can't stem the sea. And there are seas where you know you need to lose, because it's the only way to find yourself, or see you at last.

I fell in love with you, and perhaps you of me. I was with my thousand games of mirrors and my doubts perennials that for once, at least once in my life, were gone, only certainties remained. You, and I am sure is thus with your shyness, the feeling of home to only look at you, your eyes tell the whole story and make me better if you just look at me. I, with my ghost that disappears when I fall in love with you, but sooner or later reappears and comes back to haunt me. And you.

You and I, the two of us. And what could be. It was all clear, as when a painting is finished, put away the brush, there is nothing to add, so, just as it should be. The individual component colors are terribly imperfect, so different from each other that no painter would have thought to combine them, but the picture is perfect. Let's just keep it. Nothing else that protect it from the weather and from the snares of the time. Perfection does not exist almost never occurs in the madness of a few moments, sometimes, but it is fragile and knows only the present, the fleeting moment, it promises to outlast the magic of two bodies hanging in the air.

The rest is up to us. By you and me, but maybe only on you, I'm here and wait, you're there and wait, I'll come back and take you to heaven, to live this story, then let's talk about a real fairy tale, the kind that you don't forget, of a life lived with love and feeling and whatever it costs. You, me and nothing more. And by fate, that exist or maybe not, but we don't know more words and then, yes, we say it depends on him. The time, care, carelessness, mistakes, pitfalls, sacrifices, immaturity, selfishness, projects, some silence and a few words too, the wrong patterns of hide and seek, everything that sooner or then we remember that you are not ready, you're ready to much but not all, all those mistakes that I've been able to do, that I'm good to do. 

Ah, what a hopeless bumbling I am, but for love, I swear, just for love, too much love. And all the rock of this inexorable our diversity, our bet that strong and sassy completion rather than conflict, complementary rather than incompatible.

The two pieces separate and distant they always, and the mosaic magic. And all those smiles. How fell in love with you and you with me, but I'm not aware, I guess, I burn with the desire to understand what you are to me but a wall divides us with all those smiles. And then fate depends on us. We know it will be tough, traditions, family, my past and also the present and the future are not certain of this without you I do not understand and I prefer to think of it with you. Perhaps, at times, this invisible director of our lives that we call destiny has some exaggeration, we did not miss anything, tears and dreams we have become experts.

But the promise would be to resist. In all, even though we don't know what, then. At the small petty or venial lie, to anger, to those rags in the long end of that long flight to avoid if you can. Remorse, no regrets at the outlet, the waste of everything for nothing, the altar of nowhere when everything is likely to be sacrificed. 

The promise was to return, because there was nothing in the world worthing more than that to protect you and our fragile shell built from scratch. 

The love counts and counts the years who has never been ready, but when you fall in love you are ready to find out what you have always been. There are almost more than 30 years of time between the two of us, are there and they all have their truth: 

I fell in love with you. And love is important.

Don't fall in love with someone you can live with, fall in love with someone you can't live without.