The years have been passing fast in the last seconds.
I've been in me since I could see the waves of change in the fog. A
fog. A fog made of nurture and a sense of shapeness. A sense of
cloudlessness. A sense of sound, a silent sound echoing inside my
brain. And eyes in the rain, like eyes of someone searching for eyes.
Searching for nurturing. A figure of a vulture, living, vanishing,
verbalizing, wishing something whistling its name in the air.
This place. This place was alive once. A small fence
further to the fables of my father, further to my faults, further to
my falling house. A miserable house. A miserable house, consuming
every being of everything. I could sense the rotten wood whispering
to my guts that were burning every second I dared to breath.
The wind ran around trees and the valleys were gray, as
the sky looping colorfull and cadaverous everytime I was lost inside
the universe. Time was a mad man laughing among the living. It was a
cherry flavor in my tongue. It was the very toil, the own tool to
transform the fade and the fallen. Time was a trot, time was a
virulent mouth. Time was a sigh. A very soon sigh. A very deep sigh.
When it came at me, deep down in my house, a putrid
breath of its massive hug. A livetime touch that I could only palp.
An unflagging, subtle scald pumping my throat. Trees were dry. The
valley was gone. My house has been remembered. I heard birds, I always did. Now they were really birds. Now they were singing. Now they
were fluttering. My hands fluttered too. And I, astonished, saw them.
There were no sands inside the air, there was dust inside my sand.
But no shadows has changed place.
My eyes were looking for them. My eyes were rid of my
house, it was rid of my space. Shape of eternety is an animal. I saw
that animal. My eyes in the rain, not more in vain, as wise as my
brain. It was the same. I was the same.
I never changed a single shadow, and that animal's
shadow has walked through me, and I was me again.
Lost.
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