In the Mist of Certain..


In the deep blueness of the sky, there lays untold stories, stories once have heard by the dark. Isn’t it beautiful that, everyday day sun dies to let the moon live?
Light dies or call it sacrifice; to let the somber come to life, to tell us the new saga , to make us feel the fear. – He guffawed to his beloved.

Bright autumn lap with splintered feathers , and the leafs: that used to be life existential, are laying on the ground, waiting for the breeze to take them away.
He can’t lug to let her leave him in the falsity of this world, for him thats only her, who’s now getting weaker second by second,

“What if i die, before telling you how much i loved you, and what you served me , even after knowing my life would end soon”.

“There are ways, i’ll come for my answer right after you leave the hand you are holding”, with a dead smile.

“You don’t have to come to me for that, i’ll visit you every night, what.. what if i go to hell, and you die to meet me and your reach heaven”, stammering, yet modulated voice.

As his tear drops on her lips, “i’ll be a rainbow for the day, rainbow with no colours, that what makes rain to bow to him to take the soul to you, to guide you through the light, to build a staircase to heaven, to fight for the odds against the gods, i’ll come to hell for you to reach heaven” 
“I am who without you? I want to be called only after your name, else would like to never be remembered by any”

She is striving so hard to collect some more breaths to stay in his lap, for the one last time..for some last words, she holds his face, with extended fingers, staring into his eyes, red. –

” Let the breath go away,
I’ll leave steps for you to reach,
Don’t cry for me to stay,
For i have you to preach.
The day’s azure, for the night,
This flight is so bright,
Don’t proceed: to live in a death, it’s right.”

He couldn’t control him to keep the shush from crying, she is departing now, not even struggling for breath as if she wants it to let it be.

” for the love of you,
I’ll wait for my breath,
Depart if you may,
I’ll arrive to stay,
Guide me, o’beloved,
Night is stronger than the day.”

He lays her head down on the ground, in matter to let her rest, eternally. The sweet gust comes, as if it is telling him to let her rest at her place, grave, the grave he has created on her words. Grabs her from the waist, slowly placing her head on his chest to make her dead feel his heartache, and lays her in the grave, gently cover her with the sand while wiping. Still: waits for his death, till his new alive, by fighting the two deafening parallel worlds – Life and Fiction.




I write what i see, and feel what i breathe. Poetics, Realism is what i bathe in. Hope do i not that you see my words than just read?

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