As strong as you seem

I woke up bound. I had plowed highways with small pieces of myself, leaving them behind, planting tales and roots. All things growing come from somewhere deep underground. The cloudless sky is a mirage; air is as difficult to pierce as rock. We grow breathless sailing through the sky, as fishes flapping out of the water. You must be able to hold your breath for long to live a dream. It will come when you start feeling lightheaded, and shapes begin to thaw.

I feel asleep at morning. The moon had turned crimson and there was fire. The ground was warm; my soles were cold. We were walking around as beasts of prey, everyone of us with an animal head, sniffing the air like snakes, coiling around unkept sentences. Words flickered and died out. They have been spoken too many times before, they’ve lost their meaning. They’ve moved too far away from their idea – a shapeless heap of the unsaid.

Materials merging; laws and formulas in the empty space between me and you. Along all the places I’ve been and those I haven’t trodden yet. They aren’t so different after all. I can only leave impressions on this soil, flakes and silences. There was nothing left to take. Only a bare, quiet path. One must always remember you are accountable for being as strong as you seem.