Solely frightened Beings

Solely frightened Beings,
flee from anything to everything,
from night to day, silence to hustle, music to war, cold waving from afar to approaching, touching, hugging,
from death to life.

*)*

From open spaces that extend as an eternal screaming echo coming from a top of mountain that overlooking nothing,
to walls, that we wear as a protective mask from the imagination oxygen, that revives what we can’t endure.

*(*

From childhood liberties to the solemnity of adults, their rules, their personalities, their ridiculous fake balance, the blindness of their sense that hides under the name of “knowledge foresight”.
from the only dance in the desolate night of people to the tangle of hands in front of the masses.

*)*

Fleeing to cold iron ships, despite the jostle of breaths inside it “cities”

*(*

fleeing from lying down, nightly, on a random raft, a lost piece of wood in the blindness of the sea;
there,
where the “above” and the “below” disappear,
the “forward” and the “backward”,
where the sky, if just you can know, becomes a sea,
the sea, a sky becomes,
drowning loses its meaning, as floating,
flying as falling, sailing as docking, all the diodes disappear to become in this soft darkness that lighted by the sun’s daughters, an absolute zero, nothing starts from it or ends, a centre of circular roving drawn by your eyes pupils, a raw stillness with its eyes closed, just pulsing.
only there, you may believe that silent has a voice, a high howling to the degree of deafness.

*)*

Fleeing from being our true images, that contaminated with all what in us,
to the purity of images that others imagine about us.

*(*

An eternal fleeing is all that we do, from the permanent painful loss of that warm, dopey, vague, flaccid, imaginary, indiscernible, tangible, subsistence, so-called “before this happens”,
from nothingness.

*)*

Nothingness is not before death,
not after death,
not death itself,
is not even dead;
nothingness does existent and alive,
an entire uninformed universe that has not yet been walked by the human mind,
and narrowly the art tireless in its attempts to simulate it.

*(*

an entire uninformed universe that has not yet been walked by the human mind,
in the unknown depths of the oceans, where the senses dive only in their silence, catch nothing but that.
in the relative darkness of space, where the non-gravity,
as if you imagine that you are leaving a spaceship, to swim away in that blind infinite, the free, the interconnected invisibly with chaos poeticalness.
and it’s a metaphorical nothingness, be deprived of all your senses since the birth, flowing in the blindness of your self,
do not realize, feel, understand, anything
just your pulse, makes your infantilely self dancing on its tuns;
and once you sleepو
you retrieve the momently accumulative imagination of the senses,
retrieve the permanency of the astonishment.
see everything without sight,
hear the entire voices, without hearing,
smell all smells, without sniffing,
tasting the infinitely of flavours, without tasting,
touch the whole beings, without touching,
unconsciously aware that nothing outside you but the illusion.

*)*

Nothingness is our dreams that we do not remember, as we are asleep.

 

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