Notions xploding
Fatigue without a battle
soldiers for the no-man’s land
and a flag that says
We are all migrants
on a spinning planet
A turn of a tide
or a sheet of paper
and all will be gone
in the wind of some change
that blows the pipe of our notions
just for the fun of seeing
our unrecognized mis
understandings xplode
Got it?
Thought so
Never blind but senseless
in the ever seeing darkness
we stumble through nothing
From the hammering
caress of a doubt like a cloud
on the frown of a sincere mind
we rise into a dawn of questionings
Am I dreaming a mare called reality?
Or is this just a pessimist partiality?
And why is the simple breath so much brighter?
The quality of any answer
is not to be judged
