Falling upwards
Like raindrops returning to the sky
Flowers turning to buds
Disappearing beneath the soil
Whole other life above your head
Falling into space
Time is unraveling around me.
Is there another me in the mirror?
Or am I the reflection?
What is the meaning of my existence?
Do I speak or am I an echo of things past?
Do I create? or am I simply a blurry retracing
of some long lost masterpiece?
It is time
*It is not yet time.
I am lost in this stardesert
I am not original.
But I am **individual.
when your reflection moves slower than you do
when time bends around you
when you can't see the sky because of the stars