It rained during the day,
since yesterday it’s been a weeping sky.
Who I’m thinking of is a mystery to me…
No one, most probably—
Or maybe it’s not a who,
but the highest probability of things.
Gazing at abysses,
measuring slight percentages,
anticipating… lingering in the air.
Nothing is certain, you see, dear reader—
there is no certainty that things will happen.
But there is a major probability they will,
tied between A, B, C, D
…
and all letters —the universe.
It’s a sunny universe with a sad face.
It’s a gloomy universe with a sad face.
A universe with faces that are watching,
mostly wearing presumptuous act.
It’s a universe of everything and nothing,
all at once—neither all nor none.
A name,
An address,
A direction,
A dream,
A desire,
A passion.
Some man meets some woman.
Some woman meets some woman.
Some woman meets some man.
Some man meets some man.
In desire of connection, touch
…
few words exchanged—
just a maze with no exit.
Watching afar, watching shore—
Someone to return,
Someone to disappear.
Is that me?
Or is it you?
Something to happen?
Dear reader,
are you still watching over the cliffs
of things about to crumble?
Which one of us are you, dear reader?
Where do you stand in all this chaos?
Do you have nothing to hide?
What do you carry every day behind your eyes?
What makes your eyes cloudy, weighs you down—
Down to your knees,
Down to your geez?
What can you do, dear reader,
if one of us is not playing?