The world I’m living in is dilapidating.
I’m standing surrounded with buildings, things and people.
I’m just watching as piece by piece they are crumbling.
Falling,
every heavy piece of world turns into a dust and feather,
sometimes into snowflakes and drops of fog.
They are floating slowly in the air, being taken up with the wind
that takes them away with small impulses far from me,
mixing them,
destroying them.
I’m watching the world turning into decorations,
flat picture of it.
I try to descry whether there is another world
outside these decorations or at last another decorations.
Probably there is just a blank nothing.
I do not know if I have to take a hammer and ruin all that left or try
to collect those dust, feather and water and mix them
with something more stable, and put it into holes
to fix my world of decorations.
Still I’m standing and watching, confused, breathless.
Suddenly, while I’m standing among the soundless apocalypse,
the soil under my feet turns soft. It dries and turns
into a sand that seeps through the narrow funnel,
pulling me inside.
There are less of sand drains around me as I
keep falling into an endless abyss. I am
somewhere beyond two realities. I am
falling and hope this hole could appear to be a rabbit-hole which finally leads me to the Wonderland.