Waking up into a cold paradise
Atmosphere full of snowflakes, like little ballerinas
Roads in white, like a stairway to the sky,
close to clouds,
closer to stars,
closest to the moon.
Like a quilt coverring your body
and warming your soul.
Kids playing around since morning,
building snowmen and castles with the, still, soft snow
- which will probably turn into crystal by night -
The cold is bitter but the enthusiasm is huge
Far from here, a person is cursing
another is trying to clean the road
adults, preoccupied with their "jobs".
How black are their hearts?
Why are they so blind to the beautiful?
I don't misunderstand them,
I know how it feels to stay white in a black world.
They see,
they just lose the ability to perceive.
They ask for miracles but
are unable to see the magic.
Magic is colourful.
You have to remove the black wall of responsibilities for a while
and dust your broken negligible wishes,
you need it.
You need it,
to live,
not just survive,
to create,
not just die.
YOU ARE READING
My Secret Phone Notes
PoetryWords, sayings, thoughts of mine and maybe somehow poetry which are written in my phone's notes and nobody sees and knows about them but they keep deep secrets of mine that I'll never have the strength to say. Writing is my escape because there are...
