On the count of three, my journey begins
Through soft silence touching my bare feet
Three: Too much noise in my rucksack to carry
malignant, cancerous, deceiving on the contrary
Swallowed by silence and my rucksack is free
pure!
**** that constant pain I had to endure!
Two: My heavy eyes search for an end
at the far end of the sea.
My eyes fallible and fed with grandiosity.
The sea sniggers.
A sudden closure.
One: The journy pulls me through like magnet.
Not that I feel ready.
Not that I feel.
Not that I think.
Not for a moment of certainty I move or blink...