The Blank Page

Life is marvelous.

The sun rises and shines every day.

The light illuminates the objects that surround us but overall illuminates the people we meet.

Constantly, at times faint and fast, the wind transports the pollen, the perfumes, the smells of life. It shakes the treetops that dance for the pleasure of our eyes. It plays with sparrows and with the sounds it emits going through the windows; the lawns support the dances and can cheer for days at a time. Just like a little fireplace that, through its warmth, sounds and colors, takes us far away on the wings of imagination, sliding down the rainbow of the world, at the research of the lost gold like a great Pirate.

This life made us a gift: a modest blank page a day. The mother of all mothers brings to our presence every day this page and asks us to write it.

What will you write on it?

Only what you could tell. Because if you didn’t live it and didn’t imprint it in the page of life, you won’t be able to tell it to anyone: not to the rose, nor to the stream, not to the son and nor to the bride.

Mother Nature doesn’t ask anything back for this gift, she requires only a condition: it has to be written down the day you lived it. You can’t write tomorrow what you should have, but haven’t lived yesterday.

Every non-written page reflects a day you haven’t lived. Without joy, tears, fears, difficulties, hopes, dreams, the warmth of an embrace, a passionate kiss, the hand given to a friend, the cold snow on the hands, the inquisitive look of a child, the tears of an emotion.

If you remember you haven’t written it, then it’s lost.

The blank pages don’t disappear, they stay in plain view forever, for us to remember that we have missed an occasion. The only one that can’t be repeated again. Punctually we don’t see them again.

On them, there are anchored range, envy, house and cell phones, tablets, business appointments, business dinners, sloth. It wins overall the observation of the world through the digital that isn’t any more a window on the illusion of being and appearing, but a terrace full of hypocrisy.



One day the Mother of pureness will give way to the Lord with the sickle

Then. We will implore:

“Please, Hades, give me one more minute…”

“You had a lot of time. What can change now one more minute ? Why didn’t you live could and should? You had a great gift of light, freedom, love, passion and suffering. So many still haven’t enjoied it and maybe the time when they will do it, is far away.”


Whit whom have you shared… your time??? Who had this Precious Gift?


Wolf Donato

“Time is our most precious good and one of the few non-acquirable resources. Everyone is free to spend it as he sees fit, aware of the fact that it’s a inevitably limited treasure”

Roberto Re

Col Vento

Cosa succederebbe se fluissimo in armonia con il vento?

Un Folle

Chi può dire chi io sia se non io stesso!
Nel coraggio di vivere, è oggi la vera virtù.

Dal mondo del pensiero

“Lasciate cadere ciò che vuole cadere; se lo trattenete, vi trascinerà con sé” Carl Gustav Jung

Messaggio all’universo

Il messaggio di un uomo che, nella fede, ha trovato le parole per descrivere l’universalità della sua condizione.

Pater noster

Quando la preghiera fluttua via dal cuore materializzandosi in parole pure


Anche le parole possono prendere pieghe inaudite per spiccare il volo in un soffio comune

Vuoti d’Aria

Un rapporto intimo tra corpo e natura, silenzi e colori

Cos’è meditazione?

Una personale intuizione su una domanda che può interessare ogni libero ricercatore

Lingua Mortis

Le luci della notte rievocano allo sguardo una lingua celata


Sento che la nostra anima è qualcosa di meravigliosamente complessa.
Attenzione al tentativo di capirla, già di per sé, può essere un viaggio complesso ed entusiasmante. Amore e odio, il bianco ed il nero che convivono nell’entità dell’uomo.

error: Attenzione: Il contenuto è protetto da copyright!