There are times when we quarrel with our inner selves
We take for granted the opinions we throw with vanity at our humble sense
The mind starts a war on us with victims falling like stars.
Sometimes we conclude a truce, we live in milliseconds, we wake up on a street with a lamp and the trees in blossom
And we hear the silence, being so surprised to recognize its sound, to define and differentiate its presence as a loud one.
We come back to life though we never knew we were numb.
It’s like the first time in a long while we notice the surrounds, the soul ticking softly, the peculiar beings carrying on with their stuff.
We are machineries in movement and fantasies seem in a far gone time and place
We somehow landed in today, with our silly steps on an ordinary concrete, amazed by the very act of being.
In the cage we’ve been hiding, we secretively started to grow till the bars got encrusted underneath the skin, close to the bones, not sensing their presence anymore.
We were once dancers on wires, blinded by self-made disillusions
But despite the cruelty of their witchcrafts we kept on like the birds when looking for a warm zone
Novelty, though, can feel sharp and abrupt to a fickle heart so the simplest of touches can be like a cut, the blood pumping through a fine line
And now we strive to find another source of light, to thread a needle and tie a knot
Someone to perform surgery on us, and like in any other case, the patient either stays a shadow or gains a new chance.