I've always resorted in writing as a way to escape the dusts.

The dusts that intoxicating oneself,
A mere moral mortal,
A miniscule minute member,
Of an entire gigantic gigantua.

I stopped for a while to think,
To decide on what to love,
How to breathe,
How to stay alive,
In this vacuum of Sadness.

I don't know the what & how anymore.
For I’m learning myself again.