Author: tzelikazoumpouli

My barmy spear fell heavily

In Thames’ arms

And your bygone wisdom

Could not catch it

Sunday visitors found it in the bottom

They collected it like a touristic souvenir

Of Wisdom

Better these innocent strangers

that dared to capture my truth

Than my everlasting knowing ones

that could not vow me a lie

I won’t be looking for familiar shores

for my meaningful yesterdays

I will only torture the estuaries

of the infinite today

Purely

Like Wisdom

Not the one that you think of.

The other one, behind the light.

Behind the broken nerves and the cracks on the walls

Behind all the dramas.

It’s not that one.

It’s the other one; the irrational one.

The “again it’s here”, “it’s talking, listen to it”

“It’s in pain”

And it does not let you stay

It only converts you and transforms you

And blows you away

I only wanted you to see the good A from “I Am”

To hold it tight in your hands

And your meninges and your greys

I wanted you to believe

And for this to remain

I wanted you not to know,

not to depend on,

not to change

Not to need to,

not to defend against

Not to grip from the “U” of “Us”

Not to negate,

not to wither

Not to squeeze your fists.

Not the one that I show

The other one;

the tough one,

the aggressive one,

the crybaby one,

The intelligent one,

the seductive one,

the immature one

The hysterical one.

No, never your shadow.

Only the ray on your wrinkles

And the wrinkle in your dreams.

If you dare.