#rsodintotheunknown

If you see me fallen

and feel the urge

to pick me up,

please be gentle, I plead,

for my wings have been cut

and the open wound still aches.

But if you see me falling

don't try to prevent it,

don't try to catch me.

For I need to fall

and I need to be fallen

in order to stand up once more.

If you see me fallen, then,

and feel the urge

to pick me up,

please be gentle, be kind,

if anything, just watch over me

while I try to stand up and fly

once more.

_____________________________

Author's note:

Sometimes I write poetry,

sometimes poetry writes me.

Sometimes it keeps me moving,

whenever I lose my will to live.

Poetry is poetry, and the poet I am.

The wanderer, the sufferer,

the one that knows no shame.

Poetry should have rhythm,

they expect it from arrythmic ones,

they fathered the prose and the verse,

but couldn't predict that it was perverse.

Diverse it became then, to no one's surprise,

because poetry is this living being, that breaths,

Some people fear the night,

for they think it's when

the fiends go out to dance.

As for me, you see,

the night has always been

an old friend I visit from time to time.

I remember, when I was a boy,

naïve, for sure, unaware of where

the night could lead me.

And as I got older,

I've been a bohemian,

a night citizen if anything else.

But now, as a man, I look back

not to when, as teen, I was lost in Boheme,

no, I remember when I was a boy,

who'd make his way

out of the house to dance

under the moonlight contemplating

the night with all it's might that dies

As the dawn breaks

I've had no sleep.

For my soul aches

as it's trying to leave.

My body demands

to be shut down.

But my mind races

not stoping, not now.

Soon there will be sun

and sunlight everywhere.

Will I be wide awake or

will I be sound asleep?

I'd rather not to be found in the morning

when all rises. For the morning

brings the light and the light

brings everything back, brings them all back.

And I don't want to

face it all again as it has been

for years on end. I just want the day

to become night, an endless night.

And into this endless night

I want to be awake, alert.

I have to look out for those

How does it feel like dying?

Some say it's like flying,

though I'm drenched in pain.

Is it a eternal slumber?

Do I then become a number?

Does my soul ceases to be?

I think, perhaps, it's like the silence

that comes after the violence,

that lives within us.

It's like your cells decided

to release you from the jail

that is your body and mind.

So now I'm alive and well,

and then I'm dead, and well if I might say so.

There's nothing more but to sleep.

We've slept in darkness all our lives;

why are we now afraid of that same darkness

from now on?

You're not going to notice,

it'll pass, you'll see.

What comes after that?

I've no idea.

No one does, as it seems.

Happiness is a mystery,

the mystery of ages:

a pain that wages

but doesn't hurt at all.

It's the fire that warms

but doesn't burn the heart,

the spirit that possesses

but doesn't harm the flesh.

Even so, as quick as it comes, it goes.

And if you manage to keep her for long,

just as she comes, she soon is gone

and you can't feel her presence anymore,

even when she's at the mind's shore.

Someone said, and they couldn't be more right:

sadness has no end; happiness does.

It's a harsh maxim, but it's true, just as the moon

rises above the ocean.

Happiness is a mystery,

the mystery of eons:

a pain that wages

but doesn't hurt at all.

A curse that lingers

for generations to come,

and still is seen as

the best curse that's ever been.

I am the valley, I am death,

I am a million bees swarming,

I am the shadows of the past.

The darkness over the hills,

the clouds looming above,

the clocks going mute

and the flesh being torn.

I am the walk,

I am the core,

the last resource

and ever more.

I am always dancing

and I am always watching.

I am always laughing

while time passes.

I am the tree and its shadow,

and the sun and its light.

I am the passing of time

and the aging of the world,

don't cry over me, I will not die:

I will be forever more.

I am the light of the stars

eight million light-years afar.

I am the black hole and its darkness,

and I am the void and its nothingness.

Don't you cry when I'm gone

for I'll be everywhere you look.

And don't you weep when I go,

for I''ll be

at the valley.