I build walls – how funny how they collapse – I build shields with new metal alloys, embankments, moats… But they laugh at me ironically, fear cannot be fooled by tricks.
I cling to words, thoughts, questions lest I delay the one and only realization. Of decay. Not even the sea (perhaps just for a few minutes in its amniotic fluid) is enough to fool fear. Is literature the answer? Others, more experienced than me, were not cured by it.
Death will find a way to remind us of its imperial power. And the dishonorable one demands! It demands that I live as authentically as I can. This brings me face to face with my responsibility. A responsibility that I still don't know if and how I can fit in.
Acceptance of mortality stands on the landing and waits.
Should I take life seriously or is it a joke?
With pranks, sometimes I laugh, sometimes I cry, sometimes neither.
photo pexels, https://pixabay.com
