Making me blind
To the border between
Matter of daylight and
Experience of sleep.
Which one to awaken from?
Closed in a loop,
Waiting leaves my side
And I descend,
With gravity of my being,
Into the crack.
They wash over you
Situations, scenes and voices
Like a forgotten melody
From a pale childhood day.
While eyes meet lush terrain,
Gulping the horizon’s vows,
Moments start to knit as one.
Inside stirs a jaded heart.
In the hum of another crowded halt
Coated in distractions, you roam
Till you lose the feeling of being lost.
A ragged suitcase rests by the road’s edge, left alone.
things we hide from ourselves
conflicts emanated that remain
safely placed behind our vivid blinders
while living inventions that please
our idea of the world
of mythical boundaries
never leaving our side, battered,
the truths we ignore hold on and murmur
invites to inherent freedom
we go on without detecting
the scope, the expense of self-denial
clutching the shadow of the control panel
I reached out.
Over and over again,
I plummeted to unbearable grounds.
You can’t be a friend to anyone
Who isn’t befriended by himself.
I stood and watched them chase guarantees: flocking in alikeness, patting shoulders, exchanging cheers, fabricating plans.
In numbers and shared intentions they found safety. Their undying pursue for warranty was cleverly disguised into sky-high matters and superior morals; fear, the master puppeteer, was patently well hidden, smirking behind the screen.
Everyone around me was busy looking for a formula. I stood and watched them build devotedly, sightlessly, obstacles to their own happiness.