12 March 2013

Closing Box

In this little box
With doors locked and curtains drawn
There is no sense of time
No sense of reality...

Sun passed by
And Sky turned dark
Yet not a thing moved
In this little box.

Only self-absorption coursed through
The starved thread of sanity...
Clinging is no longer enough
Moving is never an option.

The little flower of hope is budding
Through the stones of shame and humiliation
Fear demands instant killing and finishing
Yet life brings growth and completion.

This numbness is desperate
Happiness is always out of reach,
Just a little out of reach,
Just a little...

Comes to mind the question
What is happiness?

It is something I do not recall having
It is something I do not recall feeling...

The essentiality of labelling myself caught me baffled
The essentiality of labelling myself, in the state of happiness, caught me horrifyingly off-guard

This urge,
This desperate urge in feeling,
Caught me...
Lost.

The secrets of life completely hidden
No amount of adventures and treasure hunts satisfies this heart's questions.

What is inside?
What is worthy?
What is it searching for?
What am I struggling for?

Is sufferance the only way?
Forward?

Questions after questions after questions
'Til we no longer knew the question
'Til everything was lost in the avalanches of words and meanings
'Til everything was lost in the chaos of feelings.


What is it?





Simply,
Lina.