Remembering dark times is sweet
when away from them
you feel going somewhere new.

Some magic have memories to me.

Like creating a nightmare
to fulfil the feeling
surviving.
The only one that does,
is the one.

That one
keeps itself
for the forward measurements
and learning process of life,
this life.

The dark around the surviving one
gets metaphorical and alive.
Like a meteorite stone
passing the earth
enlightened by the speed and grounds
of her atmosphere.

Though it's the stone
that makes the light
there's no light
on the stone.

Simple and basic
feelings of enjoyment.
Intimate joy
that no words can process,
no social can unrest.

That's my sun
my moon,
my food.