You were born as a puzzle my dear, full of pieces which always had a place to go.
If one piece of you be lost, we would all be incomplete and they would go
searching for miles for that tiny piece of the great world…
she used to say I was a star lost in the world
that had a place to go
for someone searching the world

If I were in space I would shoot through the vacuum
my hidden energy undisrupted

And be such a star
terrific only miles to be looked upon with wonder

Brother, I see you every day, drained out of colour
Your walk uneven and like you’d fly off in a blow
But once in a while, I see a hint of your smile,
As you came to rest on me, what might have you been doing?
But I sense you might have finally truly found
What means to be living a life.

It was only the slightest bit of a smile
But it roared at me like a volcano of colour.
It was only as if I had felt a blow
Of what I once in the past, had found.
You flooded me and my lonely life
With just what you were doing

None of it was my doing
Or I believed so, for I had found
A sole piece of my life
That I had lost in my blow.
For you, who have brought back what was lost-maybe a colour,
I return my promise with a piece of my smile.

Oh’ I was just a rock, a pale, hard stone; lost of a life
I tried so hard to make a smile
And there was no other way I could have found,
Other than every way I questioned to find my colour.
I was only a piece of the world, and what I was doing
Was only for the menacing wind to take it back with its blow.

In this world, I could make such small, a blow
And it would be alone, my doing
I would let out some of my colour-
Some of the puzzle pieces of my life
Into the world’s presence with a smile:
And I would mean it; because there is something that I have at last, found.

For all my time that I have searched and found,
I think I have found one of the meanings of life.
I now realise it was not my doing,
But I could do anything with a smile.
As in fact you do- deep inside you- have bold, bright colour,
It would never, unless you let it go, blow.

Oh’ brother, I was only a dull, grey rock, ****** out of colour,
So weak as if I would fly off in a blow, never to be found.
Until I discovered a small phrase of delight: Finally, in my life, I -could do anything, anything, with a smile.

Sometimes I would smile, but sometimes it would only be a mere laughter,
But still, I would only be a hard robot; only prettier- as they said

Sometimes I would talk to the dust piled under his working desk,
I would sniff in my tears and let out a sigh that meant everything in the whole universe;
‘Our systems are a little different to everybody else,
we were always smiling, even before we knew it’
I told the stones on the road,
“In his recipe, another ‘toy’ would be brought to life today.”

They call us dolls, pretty little bunches: perfectly tuned,
set up to a single, carefully manipulated pose

One day I finally found the courage to crack my face
Or perhaps only the facade of who I am
I decided to let whatever left inside me spill out into the outside world
I wanted to show light into me
I desperately needed some sunshine inside myself

I ran out the window, towards the pathway
and was stopped.
‘Princess, we don’t want you to be hazed out n’ faded, do we?’

An autumn day, a sun-glazed day
A day where anything lost would come back into our sight,
A day it seemed, to be fit for laughter or weeping,
A perfect day to sleep or **** past houses on neighbouring blocks,
A day that would accompany anyone’s playing.

It was just a day where I could feel the wind
that gently swift magic by my side
That could last as long as forever
while it could evaporate into mist in any second
in front of us
It seemed like the day was yesterday
or the day before or after
Or perhaps it wasn’t a day?

I suppose I didn’t look at the sun to see if it was there
But I knew and could imagine its being
What if the world was my dream, I thought,
A desire for life
A hope for reality
A majesty
A crook.

My most useful and active cells, those inner faces together,
Between them there lies an old, used writing enabler;
Will it interfere with these prayers?
I loosen my grip on the material of the world,
but taking only a second to press it against,
preventing its fall to the plain ground.

I stopped. I thought
if the pen of the world fell into pieces
I would return it to its place with mere energy,
but if I was to fall, my life and soul,
Would I be able to be raised up again?
I could be lost in the unending darkness for days and nights,
I could stumble on the rock and remember a hill of thorns
high up to my knees, ready to stab me uncountable times for my soul.

I would pick up my possession with slight trouble
while I would be a miracle to be lifted up again into your everlasting light.