Nehéz

I heard resilience calling out to me through the shards of a shattered window to my seat of consciousness.

It is carried around by the pollens of my un-evolved ideas and by the hoot of a crashing owl in late September, whose eyes illuminating yellow sketches in the thick of the woodland area. Here you will find;

Untold stories. Unchanged people. Never-ending parties.

Portraits of the world. hives of the universe burrowing into my mind. Free falling feelings.

Vibing instrumentals.

But you see it is nearly impossible to forgive the lies you told yourself, to let your head fall back, as if obedience to the daughters of infinity.

Time after time your jaw gets hinged, your muscles will tighten. Your palms will bleed. Bleed for something worth holding onto.

Bleed for retribution.

Yet if anyone can relate, it’s the ones who footsteps you’re retracing

The ones whose public monuments remember the embrace of the wind.

I can still hear resilience whisper if I listen.

It says the only currency is surrender to the ambience you live, to the milk that washes your skin.

To the vortex that ransomed your innocence for youthfulness.

That’s why I started to wear my heart like a crown and made a home in my chest.

It’s hard but I can still hear it when I close my eyes.

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