Words do not seem to find their way towards my doorstep these days. Instead they run away like frightened children who do not turn back.
Did I fail them?
Do they fail me?
What else is left to do with all this noise in my head and silence in my mouth?
I sit in this noiseless room waiting for the candle by the shrine to burn out and leave me with dark thoughts which shall wrap my shoulders till night is done.
I am afraid of the pressure of this new world where crowded joys can't find a place anymore.
I am afraid of cold nights which do not meet with warm mornings anymore.
I am afraid of not finding words for my memory to play with anymore.
I am afraid of future hurts and offences, blames and wounds.
Will remains of love be enough to save us from the utter loss that awaits us?
What music will it be whose measure the world will find solace in?
Will I ever be able to kiss this world again with my eyes as I have all the mornings of my life?
