What if the fire burns in front of my eyes?
I'm catapulted to each pole of the earth
looking at the moon
and seeing how it rises and diminishes.
When it diminishes to its invisible state,
wolves walk on its surface.
They claim the land for themselves
and watch you watch them,
scrutinizing your every movement,
waiting for the perfect chance to pounce on you.
It was predicted
that the night was not the darkest
when the fire was alive,
the night will be the darkest
when the bed underneath me will disappear,
when silence will prevail,
when the screams will be imminent.
I sometimes look around
and I see parts of the prophecy
come to life.
And then I rush to any safe corner
I can find,
and hold onto any prayers I was taught,
hoping to change the prophecy,
change the beginning,
change the ending,
I'm afraid of that purgatory.
I wake up in the middle of the night,
silenced soul howls,
the clouds dark, the light darker.
I need to survive.
But wish - what do I wish?
I wish ...
the unspecified.
What do I seek? Whom do I seek?
There's no one here.
There never will be.
There's only one path for me,
the most difficult I've ever seen,
and they'll cry and hate me
to walk on it,
but everything within me
wants to walk on it,
that is the only thing
that can stop all the suffering.
One suffering for another.
I'll again be called selfish,
in a very different way than now,
get rid of mine to give them some more.
