Saturday, November 5, 2011


Sometimes I wake up dead
I wonder how could I get back to life
I think, think and fail, get out of bed
I start my day like usual, mechanical

Sometimes I lose my magic pen
That writes what I see from outside and inner eyes
I keep looking for it, my handy ventilator
I burn some lines inside, failing to write

I see so many new moon nights together
Suddenly moonlight fills up, life gets better
I wonder about the ups and downs of life
Try and fail in understanding the meaning of it

I look for the magic, I search inside me
Wait to hear that call, that’ll kick an emotion
That’ll wake up the dead me, inside me
I keep myself open to grasp from the world

Sometimes it’s a call, sometimes it’s hunger
That hunger which makes me and keeps me alive
The hunger to read and write
The hunger to be someone and make a difference

The brought back life stays for a while
For another round of ups and downs to pass
For another set of dark and lighted nights to go
I find it again, hidden, in the innermost parts of me.