Posted in Originals, Poetry, Reflections

You know the times | For the stoned mother nature | Stoned Storyteller

You know the times
When she rides the stoned car
On the front seat, staring out the window
Dropping eyes fighting to see it once more
The orange, The sublime blue, The white
Seeing it once more, between the buildings
Through the window of the house with open doors
A blink here A flash there A full view between trees
Breath held in her strained neck, for just one more word.
You know the times
When everything reduces to
A blurred movie running in fast forward
And clear are only the mountains and clouds
The setting sun and its dissolving silhouettes
Looking out for infinity like her life depends on it
That is where she breathes, where her heart beats
Where she heals her hidden wounds Where she creates
Even if the horizon is only a delusion, it keeps her alive and awake.
You know the times
When I remember you
And I cannot decide if you are dead
Or still alive, somewhere, because
I think we have slipped into different cracks of reality
From the same wild waters, where we lived, where we loved
And now even the sun is not on our side but divided
Between you and me. But I continue staring at the crack I entered through, meanwhile
Everything else reduces to blur and I look at the wild waters like my life depended on it.


Early Thursday *compensating the loss*

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