Lights moves slowly at night. Brutal flashes of distance belongs to the daylight and the busy commoner.
In darkness all becomes soft and silent.
Wrapped in invicibility.
As the bus takes me trough space like catapillars on leaves, I catch myself wondering.
Whispering about who you are.
We look at ourselves trough magnifying glasses as if the essence of the world were to do the same.
A tool for us only, and the curiousity lingers...
we want to touch the imperfections we're not familiar with.
Blind we reach out for details that never hits the surface, and what insanity to think of diving into the cold!
Yet we never felt the temperature.
Expectations will overpower lust for most.
I travel alone in the dark, holding my own hand.
Impulses flow trough my body like the silent shock of bombs in the distance.
My mind is at cold war.
I want to touch and feel the bumpy road leaning towards my fear, and to taste the sweat of my dreams.
A toung caresses my mind so smoothly, as I yearn to figure out how words could ever touch me in such ways.
Am I warm, stranger?
You don't need eyes.
In melancholy and excitement I bade in hills of emotion, and for once, my mortal enemy, my weakness, I welcome you.
I smell your intentions carefully as I learn to know your presence.
Your hair is grey with the wisdom of shared pain, and your skin is soft like a newborn ready to live another life.
I don't need eyes either.
Only heart.
To fight nature is my nature, for on this earth I am a moon, and how was I ever to learn the ways of the one admiring my mystique?
As I would admire them.
No grass to softly hold me tonight, only cold windows.
But strangely I have also found comfort in the passing by.