Once I wrote a wish by clouds on my endless sky, but answer delayed. You ask for too much, I thought. So I wiped the sun. Clouds kept floating aimlessly looking for reply. But reply wasn’t coming, only few birds flew. Your wind is too strong, I thought. So I wiped the wind. Clouds couldn’t float anymore. Standing aimlessly they waited for an answer. In vain, for too long. I took them off one by one leaving sky empty. Night in the Blackberries Field reflects strange freshness. Smell of silence in the air, tears of new birth from afar.
My dreams are a cruel joke.
They taunt me. Even in my dreams, I’m an idiot who knows he’s about to wake up to reality. If I could only avoid sleep. But I can’t. I try to tell myself what to dream. I try to dream that I am flying. Something free.
It never works.