SOUL DESERTS

The Man is Lost The heart within the boundaries of the skin screams in rebellion, because it can hardly do anything else; his inaction is suffocating. He hides in an environment of intoxicants because he is lost because his heart is roaring, but only the mind can guess who made a mistake? But only two hearts: Body and Shadow, as if two eternal friends would hold hands in times of trouble so that they could help selflessly. Coagulated blood begins to bubble from the wound.

Like migratory birds sitting on a tightrope, ready for the journey, the appointed years hover over my head and guess which one will go sooner? I am shocked to see what my peers have become, has the millstone-Life crushed us so much?! I contemplate my fate in them, oh, our time is running out, and death nods approvingly above them. When a thought breaks through the monomaniacal self-goal and makes you self-accuse; did it make sense to confess your love to the soul, kneeling down to see if he would accept the ring?! The heroes of everyday life also disappeared long ago, they were wiped out by the exhibitionist fashion of the Age.

The stillness of waters silenced me, the spirit of this age shaped me, I became a craftsman of words from a beggar of stars.

I have to leave myself once, turn my back on the one who has been called by my name and bravely set out on the fates that are twisting my arms. I have to leave my former partner, who will grieve and mutter quietly: I will not even wave goodbye to him, because I am selfish, like the others, and the curse of the relationships that have happened is more evident than the years I have lived to the end. I will disappear from myself one day, so that I can leave my comfort zone once and for all, and be known by those who deliberately rejected and judged me!

And am I that strange figure who waits for rebirth within its four walls, thinking every single day of the romantic spell of the Universe, when he sees the Beloved on the street, or the mother-in-law selling bouquets of flowers, who is barking at the deserted roadside, while morphing on it alone; is the world really supposed to work this way?