First-love memories are the shed skin of a serpent that was always cool-blooded although it moved. Its venom made us feel warm, unable to detect our illness, feverish, drowsy to the point that we could not feel it strangling us. Until it broke our neck. Cracked our soul.
However, the warmth was real, which confused us.
However, the warmth was false.
People are reluctant to assume their true feelings were not always pure, and pure feelings were not always right.
There were no mirrors in fool's paradise to see our reality. From fool's hell we blamed it.
Is there any paradise for the awake?
I hear your silent question in every morning sigh.
Do you feel me trying to shine yes?
I see your hidden longing in every midnight smile.
Heraclitus' secret wish was to see that river dry.
No comments:
Post a Comment