not my photo
Translated…
Knowing, that this, was the moment of decision, people gathered on the plaza, with their own separate thoughts, but, everybody was wishing on, their one, and only dreams, to come true here. It’s just, are those, really thoughts of our own? It seemed, to have, come from inside, and yet, it seemed to, be coming, from without too. And, all I saw is, a dangerous cliff, with a lot of people who are sad, who carried their hatred, and even more, who were, about, to leap downward.
All of a sudden, that shrieking chill came from the inside, year after year, we’re still, at war, the flourishing of a dynasty, to replace, the deteriorations of the previous. All the roads, all the fields, all the houses, were once, ancient war fronts, it was once, drenched, in blood, and, those innocent people, other than, running around and about scattered, there’s only DEATH, getting separated from their loved ones. Thinking of all of this, watching the crowd getting worked up in front of me, started to, run in all directions frantically, mumbling, but couldn’t speak a complete sentence. Even, people thought that I was, crazy, and chased me to the walls, I’d become, withdrawn now.
not my photograph still…
Seeing how the waves of the crowds, strong enough, to destroy steel. And so, many of us found our hiding places in the darkness, like by the side of that forgotten riverside, choosing, to not note or see. And, many more found a safe place in the fairytales, and, some had, hid out in the world of Romeo and Juliet. There were those, who’d hauled along everything that they have, gone off afar. I saw, a bowl, abandoned, by the side of the road, not knowing, who had, left it there.
We don’t’ know, who allowed it, where the courage came, people running through this, ramming through the walls, banging, and breaking everything, and so, everything became, rubbles. We’d cried, and cried, until, we can’t, cry anymore. Everything was torn down, rebuilt back up, all the constructions were, delayed, delayed, again, and again, until ALL the foreign resources were, withdrawn from here, and all the commercialisms were, put on halt, and all people can do, is dream in the ruins, dreamed, that the funding had, came down, from the skies, how all those rocks in the rivers had turned into, gold nuggets, and, my heart is, bleeding from all of this now.
not my photograph…
So, this, is from an observer’s point of view, the narrator watched the world go crazy over whatever, and, s/he’d tried to stop the masses from going down a cliff (metaphorically), but everybody pushes her/him aside, and still fell, until, there’s nothing that remained, saved for the broken world that’s left behind………
Life, the Obstacle Course 