Sometimes at night,
When there's nobody but the pitch black,
intruded by some hints of the indifferent
orange street lights,
When you sit against your headboard,
When you are holding your legs
gently toward your stomach,
softly brushing your shins,
then your feet,
your toes,
When you let go of that warm,
stagnant remainder from your lungs,
then finally at the hundredth time you succeed at ending that repeated melody still lingering in your mind…
Your mind lapses into a
complete silence.
Now you hear the gentle
seashore-like whisper of
the late night wind and
the strangely comforting sound of
some Vehicles
still rolling… from afar,
Some glad Affirmations from
your midnight companies.
When you feel
the temperature of the intimate air rubbing its
Loud but,
wordless existence
onto your skin,
When your own focus turns the silence into
more
Clearer sounds.
Yes, some Beeping, but mostly just
Whirling,
Whispering.
Your thoughts and body finally in one,
Happily in sync,
Interlocking,
Motionless.
Then all at once,
all sounds snap back into
One fine thread.
A thought.
Then you realize that
nothing matters
anymore.
No more Desires,
no more mundane stimulations,
no more nostalgia,
or the perpetual loneliness,
the short-lived, ExplOsive excitements,
the raging ambitions…
or the Arrogant dreams.
Nothing matters.
And nobody has to care
too much about
not being able to satisfy anyone or,
anything.
No more.
Because no matter what you do,
for better or for worse,
the Earth keeps
Spinning,
the stubborn air keeps
Whispering,
its cold surface still
endearingly glides on your skin.
And here you are,
Still breathing.
Just because of this simplest reason and
your most intrinsic privilege to listen to
the Symphony of the Atmosphere
Waltzing around your ears
during your briefest existence in the
most unpredictably vast
History of the Universe,
nothing appears
any significant
anymore.
It's hard to put into words.
Only those who dare to feel it
share this most common, real, yet also most
evasive human experience.
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