put your name on it

whispering: sound   sand   stones
smell of nothingness
is it called fresh air?
stuck in the boundaries of language
caging encrypt flying meanings
it’s a changing reflection
disappearing with a tea storm
in my hot chicken soup
 
 
I’ve been here one day
I clearly remember
it was a dark freezing night
and I was without
gloves
without my favourite coat
sitting on a bare dirty ground
counting people walking by
was it yesterday or year before?
dejaviu
from the broken dreams
repetition of the lost
walking in the night
on a narrow line
of the ninth floor
on top of the PARADISE
between HERE and THERE
following the soul in search
stuck in nothingness
knowing that if it falls
it won’t hurt as much as it hurts HERE
knowing that fall isn’t escape
it’s a beginning
without useless boundaries and narrow lines
of physical body, bodily emotions, emotional state of mind
but souls – they don’t have mind