Saturday, 12 December 2015


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This is a new territory.
A new world, filled with glimpses of past times.
I lock the door and sit on the floor, the clock on the wall keeps ticking.
seconds circling around...
minutes...  hours.
Days go by, it’s been months now.

I’m growing old within these new walls.
My skin is aged, tired of holding on to this soul.
My spirit is blind for staring at the sun or vampiring through the night.
There’s an invisible gravitational fight suspended in thin air,
Can you feel it flowing, turbulent?
Can you ignore it?
Or ignore ignorance  as a girl sings words in a strange language?
Illyrian, Pinyin, Euskara, Ugaritic or beautiful plain Algerian.
How many languages do you not know?
How many songs do you not hear throughout your days, your life?

To walk out.
Or to fly; learn all the names of the winds.
Zephyrus, Lawaan, Simoon, Sharaav.
Ethereal, eternal, intangible.
Take me there; I’ll hold on to your voice strings.
Words as a flying carpet that crashes constantly into an abyss of boredom.

And seconds circling around...
Take a picture, freeze all the clocks.
How much older am I since a moment ago?
One moment older?
Ageing with a smile.


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