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  • Writer's pictureSaye

Gazing the stars of your eyes

Updated: Jul 5, 2020

They have cracked the code. There is a recipe on how to properly be anxious.

Everyone knows what is happening to us.

They can make meaning out of all this; I lose words.


A recipe for being okay about not being okay.

A recipe on how to breast the unknown.

A recipe to stay in shape. A recipe to be productive in a sticky mud.

As per usual, I am afraid of being left out.

When I am afraid I lose words.

We don’t get along; the idea of losing and I.


Words are far far far like stars flickering in nothingness.

I am stuck in two dimensionality. Only a reflection of what can possibly be.


I start to float in a pool of to-do’s and to-don’ts.


I don’t like the idea of having to choose between hugs

I am afraid to get used to not gazing at your eyes


It is refreshing to be afraid of a thunderstorm. Melancholic. Potent. Cozy. As a forgotten god, he reminds: “When nature speaks, you listen!”


I can tell how far things are when I listen to them: Moans of a donkey. Movement of sheep. The break of a heart. The stiffness I wear like a tiara around my head. A silence flattened out. A compulsion. Listen. Listen to your hunger.


Words are still far; though birds are close. So close that I am immobilized by their presence. They fly and sing all around me, cheering, clapping. I sit still. Like a mournful bride that tunes out of her wedding night. Listening I wait for the words to be back. Pity. I don’t understand their language.


I get this feeling that birds and I are in different layers of time. When they are is always today. For me it is never today. My life hasn’t been lived a single day. I am an actor who forgot herself in a play. My bones ache with truth. I am foreign to my mother tongue.


Awareness of the awareness of being aware of the moment. Is that why we are here? Or is that excess awareness? Way too much than what was asked of us.


Maybe immortality is the entry point of a moment.



Does a porcupine ever dream of flying?


I lose words.

Somewhere in between infinite content and future making.

Stuck in two dimensionality.

No wonder we are strangers to the earth.










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