My shoulders, as golden balls shimmering in the light of the midday Sun, reflecting the warmth back to my earlobes, where it gets absorbed as a melody whispered to me by a fairy of a place that I once called Home.
One of the thousand places, that is.
(This is another, I believe.)
My feet, hidden and caged in a light pinkish cloth dangle from the edge of a thick wall, losing their depth seen from the above and animating static dryness of the grey, rocky background.
I can see the particles of sand, vomited by the Ocean, sparkling like pieces of crystals around rough massiveness of dark grey stones, making them seem somewhat less intimidating, as if the glaze had been poured over them - a kind invitation and comforting touch of encouragement to those still in doubt, still in reconsideration of the value of what they are about to give away.
It is true, though, you know, that there is a magnetic force being created when we intensely focus our sight toward a thing.
A pull of a sorts that requires willingness and concentration to resist.
A vertigo that comes as the consequence of that deliberate resistance to what occurs naturally.
One cannot then than question the utility of that resistance and seek the ‘why’ behind it. It has been programmed into us, labeled as our ‘basic instinct’.
But, what when it doesn’t come by default no more?
Who are we then when something that’s supposed to be automatic and instinctual transforms into something that’s pain-inducing and tastes more as the description of its opposite?
In that case, one cannot help but to seek the antidote on the other side of the rope and wonder if they had been lied to.
Or maybe, at least for them the poles switched sides.
Wind’s playing on ‘my side’
I am not sure
if I have opted for the side
It is pushing me backwards
further from the Open Sea
and back into
the Embrace of
this wise and quiet
built by people
of a Language
the one I had been given
this time aroud;
try to integrate within the space
of my cells,
get used to its presence
in my speaking organs,
unleash it from the guest role
and make it
a dominating one
to tap all the holes
from which my story
leave the roots
underneath the ground
covered in leaves
of the Tree