chuckakot

[chuckakot]

I rest for sure in your arms, my fingers run in the steps of your breath, amicably loving you, loving you with all that I am, as you seal with me your warmth, I feel like you are the earth and I am the rain.

— Chuck Akot, Selvaggio come un fuoco

[chuckakot]

I rest for sure in your arms, my fingers run in the steps of your breath, amicably loving you, loving you with all that I am, as you seal with me your warmth, I feel like you are the earth and I am the rain.

— Chuck Akot, Selvaggio come un fuoco

[chuckakot]

But with a simple delight, fair, light and blue weather, there is this longing to see you, the brush of your smile has depicted a reasonable happiness to me, perhaps, nothing ever truly exists except for the rest of the while, when I begin to unravel your gentle heart, as it beats near mine, your pulse is an ocean of electricity, the brightest stars are above me, the night is cloaked with dampness, yet so elegant, so dense and more powerful like this love I have for you ever since, ever now, so close as it seems, living in the abundance of hope.

— Chuck Akot

[chuckakot]

But with a simple delight, fair, light and blue weather, there is this longing to see you, the brush of your smile has depicted a reasonable happiness to me, perhaps, nothing ever truly exists except for the rest of the while, when I begin to unravel your gentle heart, as it beats near mine, your pulse is an ocean of electricity, the brightest stars are above me, the night is cloaked with dampness, yet so elegant, so dense and more powerful like this love I have for you ever since, ever now, so close as it seems, living in the abundance of hope.

— Chuck Akot

[chuckakot]

Sometimes, it is rather better not to look back, because I can no longer see you, nor feel you inside my heart, knowing that my heart only beats for nothing and no one, that it is only a physiological function, rather than, beating for someone like you and make me feel sad about things. And sometimes, I wonder, looking at the night sky, and realize that this is the only way— to close my eyes and reimagine you once more and let it go, to let you go, letting the wind take you and far from my sight.

— Chuck Akot, Niente e nessuno

[chuckakot]

Sometimes, it is rather better not to look back, because I can no longer see you, nor feel you inside my heart, knowing that my heart only beats for nothing and no one, that it is only a physiological function, rather than, beating for someone like you and make me feel sad about things. And sometimes, I wonder, looking at the night sky, and realize that this is the only way— to close my eyes and reimagine you once more and let it go, to let you go, letting the wind take you and far from my sight.

— Chuck Akot, Niente e nessuno

[chuckakot]

Sometimes, it is rather better not to look back, because I can no longer see you, nor feel you inside my heart, knowing that my heart only beats for nothing and no one, that it is only a physiological function, rather than, beating for someone like you and make me feel sad about things. And sometimes, I wonder, looking at the night sky, and realize that this is the only way— to close my eyes and reimagine you once more and let it go, to let you go, letting the wind take you and far from my sight.

— Chuck Akot, Niente e nessuno

[chuckakot]

I imagine you to be the brightest star, but you are lightyears away, how I take my longing to be with you, does the river know how I become yours, or the robins question the existence of your charming face, does the bridge align with destiny, or perhaps, the quiet adamant look of the trees as they age experience the same way as I love you, but I love you hereon, and though as I carefully wonder, what kind of patience has been with me all along, to feel you in all things, to feel you inwardly, and as though the meekness of my heart is rekindled by this happiness, but as I say, it is not long lasting, and after all, my sadness will soon blanket me again, heavy eyes, sleepless nights, cold feet and naked arms.

— Chuck Akot, Finalmente lo so

[chuckakot]

I imagine you to be the brightest star, but you are lightyears away, how I take my longing to be with you, does the river know how I become yours, or the robins question the existence of your charming face, does the bridge align with destiny, or perhaps, the quiet adamant look of the trees as they age experience the same way as I love you, but I love you hereon, and though as I carefully wonder, what kind of patience has been with me all along, to feel you in all things, to feel you inwardly, and as though the meekness of my heart is rekindled by this happiness, but as I say, it is not long lasting, and after all, my sadness will soon blanket me again, heavy eyes, sleepless nights, cold feet and naked arms.

— Chuck Akot, Finalmente lo so

[chuckakot]

I imagine you to be the brightest star, but you are lightyears away, how I take my longing to be with you, does the river know how I become yours, or the robins question the existence of your charming face, does the bridge align with destiny, or perhaps, the quiet adamant look of the trees as they age experience the same way as I love you, but I love you hereon, and though as I carefully wonder, what kind of patience has been with me all along, to feel you in all things, to feel you inwardly, and as though the meekness of my heart is rekindled by this happiness, but as I say, it is not long lasting, and after all, my sadness will soon blanket me again, heavy eyes, sleepless nights, cold feet and naked arms.

— Chuck Akot, Finalmente lo so

[chuckakot]

As I stand here waiting, you approach me with your eyes and my gaze turns to you, vivid as a dream, vivid as your perfume saturates the whole atmosphere, vivid as the only one I can recognize, the only one that is real inside a dream.

— Chuck Akot, Dentro un sogno

[chuckakot]

As I stand here waiting, you approach me with your eyes and my gaze turns to you, vivid as a dream, vivid as your perfume saturates the whole atmosphere, vivid as the only one I can recognize, the only one that is real inside a dream.

— Chuck Akot, Dentro un sogno

[chuckakot]

As I stand here waiting, you approach me with your eyes and my gaze turns to you, vivid as a dream, vivid as your perfume saturates the whole atmosphere, vivid as the only one I can recognize, the only one that is real inside a dream.

— Chuck Akot, Dentro un sogno

[chuckakot]

As I stand here waiting, you approach me with your eyes and my gaze turns to you, vivid as a dream, vivid as your perfume saturates the whole atmosphere, vivid as the only one I can recognize, the only one that is real inside a dream.

— Chuck Akot, Dentro un sogno

[chuckakot]

My only wish for you is that, there will be someone whose hands are yours to hold, they say it is loyalty, so, thank your hands to be able to take that other hand and place it on yours, where every line on your palms and the shape of it, even the spaces in between aligns and matches perfectly, and knowing the warmth while you touch it, that same warmth of love you feel for this person, I guess, sometimes, nobody knows how exactly a hand can make up for something other than words or phrases, but all I can put up in my mind is, that a hand is something what God has created artistically, bone by bone, jointly, and to teach you to pray, to say hello, even to humble yourself, or pat someone's back to keep doing their best, what a hand can do is also to give hope and care for because it can make gestures of hug, so thank you hand for having part of me, without you, my voice will not seem so clear for everyone else.

— Chuck Akot, Grazie mano

[chuckakot]

I wish to hold you and never let go, how I wish to confront my fears and stand by you, how I wish that the voice I used to recognize be just a voice I heard from the streets, how a minute prevails in my mind, and turn to hours of hurt.

— Chuck Akot, Ore di dolore

[chuckakot]

I wish to hold you and never let go, how I wish to confront my fears and stand by you, how I wish that the voice I used to recognize be just a voice I heard from the streets, how a minute prevails in my mind, and turn to hours of hurt.

— Chuck Akot, Ore di dolore