And how, when the Moon is up, I can't be someone who I'm not. I get transferred to a place where the idea of pretending is what I'm miles away from. The darkness, the little chirping, the silence that I so wish to be endless, all arrives where I stand as per the promise and I end up thinking that some promises aren't meant to be broken. The darkness gets darker each moment, the chirping I now rarely hear and I get closer to an idea of being defended. This revolution, the process, it knows its easy to get used to this feeling of not being abandoned and perhaps it still wants to make me stronger than I've been; therefore it turns its arrival into an intention of disappearing for a while so as to prepare me for the worst at the same time.
And again I'm left with nothingness. Emptiness. Lack of feelings but still an emotion. I lie with my body trying to be and remain free. And I'm again left so silent that its a guess that satisfaction is on its way to my door. At this moment, I'm empty. I've emptied myself in a jar and had any river been flowing by this huge window, I'd have set the jar free. I am, yes, left with the silence I still wish to be endless but I'm beginning to feel that a part of me, an entirely big part of me has been set free. And the doer is none other than me. Its a guess that this is what emptiness does to one. Like when I'm accompanied by the brightest of the sunshine, I feel inside some stars shining.