Sits quietly and waits In lieu of wondering about Un-drifts itself from ups and downs Prolongs the day without a doubt. Invites attendants to the smoothest show Un-compromised by feelings, looks or story's flow Desire free, no second thought nor grow .. mostly simple and un-hinged blow. The perfect space hides deep inside somewhere It'd hover not be low enough Linger by itself.. Not open not closed, colourless Timeless.. Frictionless.. Impenetrable by our ego.. Or our hands.. Or minds. It is perfect in this form Or shape.. Unforgettable by all means Of understanding.. Could've easily been missed Nor found Afaik that special link, Which got me thinking.
It's gonna be a blast I'm about to pump some air Forces unhinged must throttle aghast Rise muscles of iron and fists of flair.
Almost a gang inception My internal organs rebel all forgotten Outside a mantle of muscle armor feeding on action Maybe in a stretched second, but if not in a dozen.
Committed like Bull was I in my mind Stretched on the sand all limbs out and inert Stories succumbed.. went still, my eyes blind Imagination eager to stroll whilst my body is all but desert.
Was it always this empty? Was it always a mess! This forgotten conundrum, Devoid of life.. Sparkle. Degress!
Were we ever so numb! Dumb struck by life's mess? Ignoring pain floating inside, Succumbing to empty.. Grey. Less!
Another breath survives alright A glimpse of blue across the sky Me thinks of food.. A glass of wine She says hello.. I say good bye.
Thoughts immersed in limbo
Starring blindly through the window
Trees moving, chasing the road behind,
Empty glaze upfronts my mind
Barrows driven through umbrellas
Wearing thinning dusty skins
Mirrors thirst, reflecting blackness
Nothing else apart from glee
Other than this sea
Right above me.
Shouldn’t matter if velvet breaks the ice..
Of our frozen souls, twice
In and out of glaring sorrow
No remorse tomorrow
(‘Umbra’ by Ana Blandiana, she is a Romanian poet, essayist and political figure, born in 1942; this is my interpretation from original)
Who is walking ahead
Without looking back
Has forgot about him behind;
Is of being afraid
To not be reached
He who doesn’t share a target
To not find there
As if his shadow
Wouldn’t be just the pond of black
Dropping from our open veins
Because of our desire to progress…
Conquer myself.. Truth untold Broken promise False desire Empty fire. Conquer myself.. Truth untold Hollow passion No devotion Dishonest inclination. Conquer myself.. Truth untold Lusty predilection Zero fascination Lots infatuation. Conquer myself.. Truth untold Yes concupiscence Great revenousness Relish cavetousness. Conquer yourself!
(‘Era o fantana’ by Elena Farago, she was a Romanian poet, 1878 – 1954; this is my interpretation from original, certain words were misspelled to pertain the atmosphere)