Chains and Leaves
Game and The Nature
The Urge to Belong, to Matter
Not to understand, yet to know,
An abstract painting with a billion shades,
Blueberry blue and watermelon red slide across,
Until the palette grows confused.
To belong – to someone?
Are steel shackles not heavy?
And are wind-carried leaves truly free?
Falling to the ground, they turn into mud.
They have nowhere left to go.
Between chains and wind there is a choice –
Duty or endless imagination.
The gaze stretches toward both,
Nerves rupture, inner organs strain.
Is it easy to be human?
Does a gilded chain become light?
Gold is heavier than the morning’s coffee.
If leaves remain on the tree, will they avoid becoming mud?
They will be shed in autumn.
What is desired tastes of blood.
In Dance With Personal Madness,
Darian