Would anyone understand?
I doubt that.
One only advances in one's own convictions.
Truth or lies, it doesn't truly matter,
when it's disguised for convenience.

Stay silent for ages, maybe centuries,
to see the cycles repeating.

Interesting,
the hunt of every day, the parrot of every age,
don't fulfill the pleasure of really creating,
of having nobody to tell you what's right or wrong.

When you surprise yourself with the unexpected possibilities
of your creations, made real in front of your eyes.
And how life really spreads without control,
even when it's not fully conscious of what it's doing.

Things can emerge,
and when they do, you feel the pleasure of a word before any other.
The first breath before anything else.

One understands then, what it means to leave everything behind,
because you can't reach there with your old eyes
and that same old chorus,
and the old body made only for the slaughter.

There's no need to be heard that deeply,
to be understood beyond convictions.

Because what simply is doesn't need permission.

Penned by my hand on the 16th of Phaestian, in the year 1007 AF.