Poem: Shadow of our lives

the stones we gathered have disappeared

crystal air-bubbles invading through the hourglass

escaping through the oceans with no memories

          of our precious minutes

in the room where clocks keep on ticking

          I see it clearly now –

our lives are plays displayed on our dashboards

if I write a story, would you play a role for me?

- touch me deeper than myself, for I am not a fragile bird

or would that be totally inappropriate?

           among twenty-seven versions of us,

we write down the one designed by time and space

I searched for a definition of myself in your words

as if your eyes have a better understanding of myself

now we don't seem to care if the other lives of dies

we painted on the walls of our parents house

writing down stories of the faces we found on the ceiling

          - not giving much care to the one we were living

we carelessly ran away from things – not knowing they always ran after us

we knew that when we grow tall our feet will fit in the grown-ups' shoes

and we'll take longer and more important steps

little did we know our faces will change their colour

and we'll abandon the games we used to play

but the manner with which we'll do things, will stay the same

we had today, but today turned into yesterday

and yesterday clings in the back of our minds

like a faded memory and now we're questioning its existence

for everything has an expiration date

        we were never kids first,

always trying to put ourselves in the roles only adults were allowed to play

from primary school, to a college, to a job, to a house, to a home...

years later we forget how to keep wonder

where is the force that glued our hearts together?

words of freedom hang on the wire through wind and snow

birds whispering their songs at sundown

the winter of our hearts has passed

many people have left the train

many love stories never reached a beginning

         or have lost their spark

many new lives have begun while others have lost their writer

remaining ones searching for a sound mind and a place to hide

as the time capsule swallows us into its depths

         are we out of our minds?

future us dropping past into the sea

the dead town stealing away tomorrows

slaves refusing revolution for comfort and injustice

who's driving this train anyway?

there's a promise of a treasure on a map

we're running like mad men to the hills

so we can fight for the little we managed to hide as our own

in a seemingly small playground we are building future

not out of rocks and stones, but with hearts and bones

and we wonder what kind of shadow our lives will cast behind

.