A dark, dark light glows in the back alley.
Like the winged bugs gathering there,
We squirm crying, crying together.
The thoughts we hold to ourselves smoulder.
“What should we do?â€
I don’t know that.
I fear the meaning of infinity.
My numb and exhausted legs,
Plead me to stand up.
“Everything’s fate.†Such things are just scribbles by God which I wad up and discard.
Always holding just a single clear method to my chest,
I glare at the daybreak.
Talk of an iridescent future,
That armchair theory is a magnificent simulation.
I tie my sneakers’ laces,
And start by lifting my head according to plan.
The countless sounds of footsteps striking the asphalt,
One-by-one there’s meaning in each.
Seeking a reason to be here,
I whistle as I walk on.
If I could meet God peeking in from outside the miniature garden,
I’d want to try gagging him with a single smack.
So that the nameless flower may be reborn tomorrow,
I wake up from my dreams.
We know the form proudly growing.
Believing it’ll be solved when all the mysteries that were born come to an end,
I deceive God with just a single clear method.
I’ll survive through the present.