Quiet inside my room, stillness through the wood;
one long breath and i bathe naked into it,
when the noise of the city clutters my mood,
I wonder, why my poor self must always split.
Don’t ask me, I ignore where or what is food,
in poisons i still indulge, I do admit.
Yet i’ve always known, what for me would do good
givin’ way to binge, softly set my limit.
Mountains of things i have yearned and desired,
mere sandcastles, I wish i had realised.
When the winds take them, only hollow remains.
Through inner silence, your true self is revealed,
yet what most familiar is often feared,
for people often grow fond of their own chains.
(Lindos, August 2022)
lamentina 