The soft sigh of the severance

The early bedazzlement is long gone now

When you feel that the same notions that made you tread this path

dwindled in a sincere withstand of the worship

The elongation of the shadows

The futile chase of the only one that gives you

the illusion of coincidence

But dwells in the possibility

Not probability

I heard the soft, muffled encouragement that was never sure

but persevered

through the perturbing

exaltation and sparkling

but not devout of excuses, demeanour of little vivacious festival

lost somewhere between the fatality of blood bond and the awareness of the connections

you make as you progress

...

As all the words at the momentarily disposal are

long gone

the contents of the refilled and refined

finds its obelisk

demure and engraved

with seemingly nonsense scatterings

The page turner of the

Capital Letter

The swaying alertness of

the pursuit.

In the meantime

You look into the

shivering image

in the polished worktop of grievances

the dough of ostensible control

you try to convey through

your reassuring daily rituals

It looms as if the re-appeared

person created a special

ministry unit to make sure

The self emerges only by love

to the wand that is used

not by the love to connect

The division between the selfish and the selfless

As you are trying hard

to impersonate yourself

by the trivia otherly, outwardly

called: the facts of life

the principles

But at the mountain pass

It all crumbles into the

Void

And nothing but the clanging

of empty useless pans

is to be heard in the distance

of an avalanche’s murmur.