*
When I look at my dad, I see me, when I
speak, I hear my mother’s voice, when I
look at my hands, stocky and short, I see
my father’s hands, when I sing, I hear my
mother’s song, like my dad in appearance
but like my mother in sound, my mother is
music, my father poetry, yet the two
Never got along, no wonder I never got on
with either of them, I have lived in my own
world since I was small, when I try to leave
sharing my thoughts with others, my sand
castles crumble, my soap bubbles burst -
feeling naked and sad, alone, abandoned;
I immediately return to my mental citadel
Where no-one can get me, no feeling can
reach, no-one can hurt me, I have a secret
castle of quantum physics more mysterious
than the lore of the ancients, legends and
myths that feed my soul, a source of af-
fection and energy that keeps me strong
when reality strangles life out of me
Every time real-life events kill a dream, I
find spiritual books assuring me a vision
is more valid than physical things, I look
at fearsome ghosts and scary phantoms
conjured by fancy, I can make them real
or let them go by offering them love and
- I actually DO love them
For the role they play, keeping me en-
sconced in a dream that one day there
will be a world of unconditional love in
which spirits like me will exist happily...
Song:
“Listen to the ocean, echo’s of a million
sea shells, forever it’s in motion, moving
to a rhythmic and unwritten music that’s
played eternally...”
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