Wonder In Chaos

"Paper Plane"

Senses
trigger memories.
With a single sight,
smell,
feeling,
Could be a melodious comfort
that smells like something
you specifically know
even just with a gist of it
passing by
for a millisecond,
whatever or whoever it came from.
A familiarization,
neither you being blind
nor pondering about that specific smell
making that presence much alive more than ever
for you.
Just you.

You closed your eyes.
A familiar feeling in the pit of your stomach.
You knew it already.
Trying to grip it as hard as you can,
immersing yourself into that complacency and comfort with a mix of affliction
until all you could grasp
is just a sole aftertaste
of what's left behind.
All along,
you're still trying not to let it go.

If it's as easy
as putting everything in a paper
and let it fly at sunset or noon,
or even at midnight,
you wouldn't have looked for it.
For something
that would fill your heart.
Something,
that you're desperately trying to hold onto
thinking
that it deserves to be felt.

Since then,
the windows of your soul
is as tightly closed
as an isolated empty room,
continuously banging by someone
with his bare hands
so hopelessly,
making him fall into his knees with agony and desperation.
No idea.
I must say,
open it.
No matter how slow it is,
such irises deserve to be seen
by presences
who deserve to see the beauty of it.
The beauty of what's hidden behind it.
Please,
turn around...
No. Don't.

The moon is beautiful, isn't it?
I smiled.
You didn't.

Your eyes still closed.
It's okay.

At this moment,
I finished folding it.
And it's still flying not so far away,
but it will be.
In time...
At dawn.

Falling into sleep.