We are born as candles, stones of different natures,
we are born without ever becoming real,
we hide inside full sail, clipped wings,
we are like the spirits of the wind who listen for a sound.
We follow different paths, adverse, inexplicable conditions.
We are opposites like seas with the same color.
We always become different whenever we show warmth.
When we feel something we die in deep blue and then we return to the world.
Same universe as before.
Same nuance.
We can move a flower.
Break a curtain.
Put out a flame and sleep through the night.
We are inside a secret mechanism and we delete everything about us when we don't exist.

I once said I'd never go back,
and that ship that left a trail of memories was the world before.
But there is no after world, there is no after.
Boxes inside other boxes open, dimensions that you find within yourself.
Some see nothing of every passing ship.
All black feathers create a raven but the raven is not those black feathers.
There are many reasons for disappearing and the sun leaves its shadow on the plants every day.
We stop here for a moment,
we talk, we listen but nobody really understands.
It is a thin, moist fire, a fire of blue stars.
Peace to all who see smiles and see flowers.


2 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. Reaseaorg
    Mar 07, 2023 @ 15:56:15

    Beautiful Poem, captures the evolving nature of all of us 🙂


  2. wingsallure
    Mar 07, 2023 @ 17:16:23

    A complicated torrant of the make-up of us


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