“Life on the edge” – photo courtesy of Jess Findlay, renowned photographer, Canada.
www.jessfindlay.com

Even though I cannot see what is out there, I know – out there, he can see me. The black holes of the outer space are not senseless, despite our wandering around them.

With ever so weak heartbeats, I enter the nearby colonies I do not belong to. I can see their hands and tails; wings and shadows; masks and piers – in-between what I think I see, still unaware that it is not that.

There are so many dots around us in the constellation – the spoken within the unspoken – connected. And since then, how much sorrow we have caused them… Endlessly! We shone within them even more, poured over – sung the words by melody, sung the words like a melody. And they still stand next to our bodies and wonder: why they are given to us? They continue to live, despite the unproportioned lung span – invisibly bended and squatted.

I find them: folded and floatable, shattered and scattered, left alone and let loose and I just cannot let them settle down! I feel, they come as if from the illogical thought – these logical rhymes. We intertwine and entwine in the confusion – who is the one who writes and who is the written line in the non-existing storyline.

I see a doe and a wolf dancing with a smile around the fairytale circle, while the secret sits in the center and waits, since it knows – the rock is nothing but a balloon from a child’s palms…

Do you feel what is beneath the rain?