“Do you mind I put your death in my poem?” –
She asked, smiling.
“Why? I don’t want to die”.
“To lift my headache to the level of happiness”.
The answer of evil. Bizarrely sweet.
She isn’t mine yet,
But already trying to change my world.
“Read it,” – I said, and closed the eyes.
This Earth is not a rock,
But a wheel,
Where we are trying
Between “later” and “too late”.
This Earth is two glasses.
And three chairs.
Plus one pulse. Beating
Between “away” and “somewhere else”.
This Earth is a choice you can’t make,
The thousands of breaths…are screaming,
Between “lifetime” and the “moment”.
Nerves wide open.
This Earth isn’t you, or me, or us…
It is a designed playground
Of the truth,
Between “the power” and “the weakness”.
This Earth is a ray of daylight.
When you will let in
The kindness in your heart, human.
If there’s any…
“Where’s death? Buried under the ice? Haha” – I asked.
“I changed my mind, – she said, –
Too strong sun. It is a noon also. Or maybe it isn’t finished yet…Let’s eat before the world go upside down.”
Thank you, female logic.
I’m feeling very alive.
And I know who is riding the Earth.