I laid my head against the blank,
Swinging over the infinite space in the space-tank,
Eyes closed and shoulders shrugged,
Hair gently falling down to please the gravity of earth,
Arms hanging over the rest of the body;
I tilted back a little to adjust myself;
I could clearly hear the sounds of vibrations of each of my body cells;
Are they making so much of noise out of sheer happiness,
Or just in ignorance due to deep madness?
I tried and tried to tilt back a little more, to enjoy even more the state of sublime;
All I found was just a little more space every time;
Is there any end to one’s desires?
Are there any answers to the boundless questions that are yet not put forth?
But how can one deny the existence of something that is unsaid, just because that is not ever said?
Ah, I see this as one of the most ridiculous things. I don’t feel things that are irrelevant to me, though they are being said every now and then. I don’t feel things for I don’t feel about them. Sometimes I do feel them only for the sake of their making sense for others. And it’s painful when I do so. But yes I do, because I’m coward by my basic human nature. And I can’t seem to overcome this very little habit. Who am I then to expect anything- anything at all- from you, from others or from anyone alive or dead in this world?
On the contrary, I feel the things that are relevant to me, though they are not being said many a times or almost ever. I sense them when it’s there, even when it’s not explicitly there, just as I see the infinite potential within one living creature – or let me be specific – within my very own self. I have yet not been able to define a function that replicates my line of behavior, that universal constant which I could just add to my self being and rest in peace, the gradient of my very own nature that I could relate with the intensity that drives me, pushes me and pulls me.
I try to tilt back a little more, to enjoy a little more the state of sublime;
All I find is a little more space every time!