Lines going out of this world and back in a perfect solitude
No other entities, no drops, no clouds, no sounds, not even sun rays or dust
Just emptiness, stillness, grey covers and a mute abyss
Edges, numbness and a huge plain of bones from all the theories I fed myself with.
I can play in this abstract place but when did joy become possible in a heartless void?
At night, the caves and the stars share more than those pertaining to the same kind
And as time slips through, I spin in the same way with every day,
And when the circles break I bounce and I start again and drink some inner rain
I freeze under heavy nights and wait for a sparkle to simulate life
I embrace my line but then I sense loss in all the beings I pass by in this momentary ride
And then I learn how to pretend I’m blind and starve for nothingness and all the creativity it allows.
I just hold on tight to this line that I know so little about, sketching strategies in my naive mind and secretly hoping for a divine plan.