Human beings
completely intricate—
distorted, subtle, direct, ironic,
melancholic, and other adjectives…
Not as clearly defined and innovative as their works.
In transcending the mirage,
longing for fulfillment,
made from the same clay,
the same flesh and bones.
They were born and still live,
sometimes, they pass away.
In the marketplace of lost illusions,
unwanted experiences—
transforming, shaping the messages
received from the Looking Glass World.
Seeking a new idea, like an exotic flavor—
to remember, to forget, to be angry,
to reflect, to love, to hate, to be loved.
And all of this for something so elusive,
to make life more tender.
Their fate was decided before
they could ever think...
And for what?
To laugh, to cry,
to be safe or stoic,
and to touch this strange structure.
Losing grip on reality,
without balance,
as they used to say.
I’m already on a dizzying poetic carousel,
with one foot in my normal life,
and one hand in virtual poetry.
