Show me it all
When you feel like you're stuck, know that you are always in motion.
“For we are like tree trunks in the snow. In appearance they lie smoothly and a little push should be enough to set them rolling. No, it can’t be done, for they are firmly wedded to the ground. But see, even that is only appearance.” - Kafka
I’m waiting for my life.
Not for motion to set in,
I need to know it’s happening.
Like my lungs aren’t filling with cinders,
for reason to set them ablaze.
That I don’t stand on the train,
waiting for my knees to give out,
because that’s all I know to do.
The autumn leaves have my name written on them.
Justifying that I, too, diminish.
Everything I say is worthy,
nothing is left to dance.
How I am displayed will be futile,
My heart is sailing to death.
The cessisation of residence.
The terminal refuses to accept my identification,
I don’t look like the photo anymore.
My hair is still the same,
my eyes have deformed.
The ashes fell off,
let my liberty be honoured,
perserverance will recall my death.
It wasn’t meant to be this way.
Time has passed.
Would you give it all away?
Show me all,
how the dust on my grave will signify my soul.