I called my wild.
Hand in hand, we stood on the cliff,
looking down—
a frozen lump of darkness,
an impenetrable silence
invaded our beings.
We looked up:
the same darkness,
the same silence.
Those stars—
their mocking looks,
hinting there could have been light.
We stood,
no sorrows, no pain;
only regrets for what was lost—
the vitality, the happy smiles,
the heartbeat of life...
Wild froze in that silence.
My wild breathed his last
in that mortuary of life.
There he lay, sprawled on his back,
perfectly still—
no sign of life.
The frosted window of hope
never defrosted.
Anger stepped across the threshold—
my only companion.
Though we despised every moment,
we kept each other alive.
Perhaps it\'s a struggle
in a game pre-decided.
I should be content
dangling
with the rope of unattainable wishes
fate put around my neck.
Can\'t go up, nature says.
Can it stop me from going down?
Do I surrender to my fate?
Or
should I go down?
Before I go,
perhaps I should say a prayer
for my wild.
And the stars smiled
their cold smiles...
I found myself in that
emotional void.
Floating in and out,
conscious without care.
Alive beyond life,
as we know it.
Yet, just before
the last spark was about to step away,
a thought flooded my mind:
those moments when
someone believed in me,
yet I had lost faith in who I was.
Weren\'t those enough to go on living
with a smile?