Through the stormy desert
Your thirst staggered for days,
And ends up sipping
Fresh experiences as consolation.
An ocean of memories inside heart
Constantly combusts like wild flames,
Yet seems so peaceful
Like the rough skin of an extinct volcano.
You believed in my words, that,
One can’t grow larger than sun,
Or be more skillful than Orion,
Weaving luminosity over
The edge of eastern horizon.
But one can be the daisy in a vase
Who dreams every night of blooming
Like a star, with shimmering aura,
Writing fates of humans,
As if she can pick them, pluck them now,
From life, whenever she wishes.
We are all like her,
Craving for a ****** dream to live with.
And in the mirror of life,
Trying to reflect it time after time.

Your username and password,
To learn of the world,
Your e-mail address,
To access your friends,
A 4-digit PIN,
To start out your life,
A captcha test,
To be yourself,
The world behind a lock screen.

In silence motionless,
But dancing with his laughs,
Rising with his spirits,
Falling with his heart,
Each wrapped around his soul,
One a hint of his truth,
The perverse meaning behind his words,
The other joining the first as his laughter shakes his smile.

To only know how to ask,
A question that he can't help but,
Chase after with such light and dark in his eyes,
That won't stay still for long enough to write down.

To only know how to forget,
The questions that he ignores,
And clatters past without balance nor reason,
For the joy of careless haste.

To only know how to speak,
The words self-censored not self-centred,
To shout and scream and giggle at himself,
For no f*ing reason.

To be free-formed and free from self,
J'aimerais être libre!

Yes...
I wrote in French...
Why not?

A new world,
A freer place closer to the Earth,
A place built around nature not on it,
And the ways of life that here have been forgotten.

A world of choice,
Where boundaries are wide and blurred,
Where my decision is mine alone - unquestioned,
And there's enough space to be myself.

Cry my child, for one does not bury a child without burying a part of one's soul with it.
Cry, for one cannot comprehend the ways of God.
It is for us to wash away our painful confusion  with tears and then to carry on.
.
.
For yesterday is not today and today is not tomorrow

Could we go somewhere?
Would it be running from life?
Should that be the way?