Birth of a day – remnants of a birthday
A wave of infinite births rushes through me.
Devoured by an impermanent feeling of remorse
for having let the day die.
A question, filled with the same will as the cloud
full of water, forces itself into my being with the same persistence
as the drunk, in need of his fix – haunting!
Is this the color of life?
The color of life, in search of how to live.
The child within me grows daily, with the motivation being,
that I don’t understand adult ways.
I do my best to treat the rules with the dignity and respect
as of one who has lived a long life and endured many burdens.
A result of the evolution of human society.
But inside me is the child, who IS me
and I want to dance with the wind that haunts me,
in moonlit nights, candles on the floor,
on a day of birth, who loved me,
as if she was my mother…