'Comes a time', when it feels so good to be in a traffic jam or irritated on a top of a mountain, even jogging with snakes in freshly clipped grass! When there're no parts of me enslaving its labour, nor I being aground. Ah, Peace, whatever life's delivering, I don't mind.
~

'...round the clock!
inside ignorance's painting
'fishes' are dying,
dashing its blueprint on a rock.'
~

'I, in the land of the free ...
'where' would you be without me!'
~ Ego

'broken bones!
joints growing judgment!
it beats,
but I feel strong...
dozing pulsation.'
~

'Between brackets won't flee.
Comfortably in its pause, the obvious Is barking!
Yet impossible to hear nor to see.'
~

'... script's data,
typography's dead man's memoir,
inking vowels
of a barren mind.'
~

In the depths of winter, I finally learned that in me, there is a great summer, where silence becomes a symphony of a blind man's privilege to hear. I, pleased needn't be, as God knows I tried too hard, too long, too many times! I do not know, nor I belong. Freedom, so sweet, there's no flavour left in me for you to master.  
~