"Stress is caused by being ‘here’ but wanting to be ‘there’"
that's how a German author defines stress.

I read this quote
and write it down
in that tab I open
secretly at work
to avoid being
seen by my boss.

That tab,
that lives like a refugee,
like everything I like.

Buddha whispers to my ear,
-Attachment is the root of suffering-
with his funny accent
-The richest man is not he who has the most, but he who needs the least.-

I call into question
my arms race
against myself.
That cold war that started years ago
and never ended.

Yahve sets a
bush on fire
on the park
and talks to me.
He talks about
the promised land.
The same land he once promised
to Abraham,
to Isaac,
to Jacob,
to Moises,
to my grandparent,
to my parents.

And I then remember,
I am also a part of this exodus.

-the end justifies the means-
I repeat this to myself,
like a mantra,
trying to convince myself
as I see the parts of me
being left in the path.
The goal blends
into the horizon
like a mirage.

I see how other boys
come closer.
They are younger,
and run faster,
and better.

And I once was
one of those boys,
ready to run for days.
Privileged.
My parents ensure
my path has less rocks
and that my wall
(that wall people who run long distances know)
was lower and softer.

I see the corpses in the path
of the persons who weren't even able to see
the end.

My life is a constant wanting
to reach those lands
while I hate the desert
under my feet.

I had walked on this lands
when I was young
The green nature ,
magnificent horses ,
multicoloured birds ,
the blue sky ,
tall trees , scattered sunrays
and wild flora and fauna
accompanied me on this walk
around this beautiful island .
This nature's land

Provided no more tears,
Fall down on ones head.
The rain may continue,
Yet not from dread.
Is there only horrors of life hiding in the wait?
Are there no more avenues for one to create?
This beast of burden I've carried,
So long kept concealed.
Always remaining calm,
Storms brewing infield.
A moment of silence necessary,
For those still living.
Let your mistakes be many,
And always forgiving.

Once upon a lifetime,
An underage student in this rhyme,
I gazed at the cafeteria, great,
With thousands of folk, no one to relate,
It became a norm, I was never late,
Now such colleges are up to date,
Way back when, the good old days,
When carbohydrates were our fave,
Did all students get fat hips,
From eating hot pies and chips?
A land of confusion, so it appears,
An ivory tower of blue stockings, my dears.....
But chubby, let's face it, cheers!

You have planted your feet
into the ground, as if the roots
of oak and willow trees
will bend and grow
around you

But the land is cruel
and unremorseful, it will
flood or famine or even
walk. The flowers full
of pollen, singing as
they sting

Yet you will tend them
tenderly, unaware of
the rage of a buried
thing. You will water
them and name them,
talk to them, sometimes

Your feet are in the ground,
now, and you cannot run
away, fight or flight, stuck
in time, in land, vegetables
surfacing, ivy climbing, as
you are forced to eat the
orange petals, that rebelled
against your claim of
ownership

What is meant by delights?
As if we have been abandoned from the land of lights
We pursue the dreams that are lost ages before our real birth
So what?
So when the cruise ship will have the chance to berth
No one knows, no one ever knows how the time will react to save us all
To me, it's always the last match ball
Something odd that never makes a call
we lose as they proceed and this way the time passes the way it has to
But no one knows all these stuff will turn for who
we can someday know, if we have the go
I think.

sunshine lingers land
over receding tides
seashells on the sand
carring the ocean within
with a warm gentle touch
there silent whispers unfold
held to my ear I listen
as a beautiful story is told