#Notebook #33

It was cold…freezing…the snow coming down on him…shreds of diamonds all over..cascading from the sky..covering him..his jacket..his boots..his bag…invading his hair…his existence …Why was he walking the streets at midnight..in the city of night…was recovering from an invisible scent of a woman miles away..thousand of miles away…a woman tucked away in one of the corners of the world..resting on a feather bed..by a window overlooking a private garden in the middle of a Sahara…

What is with the houses at night..dark…calm…what are they doing..sleeping…cuddling…is the TV on…is it off…mute…who knows..are they fighting …all those spirits living in homes..houses..flats…apartments…who knows…what do they think before they go to sleep…their last thought before the blackness takes over…that last light of thought…the last vision before everything turns to a dakar noir…

Is she the exile he looks for.. a port for his ship of fools..a resting place for a period of time.. months.. a year..who knows..would she risk and let a sailor into the city of light..a barbaric .. a lost soul into civilisation…a Lothario of words …fathers lock your daughters.. a poet arrived today and life will never be the same again.


2 thoughts on “#Notebook #33

  1. Noor says:

    Why are we so afraid of the unknown? Why even if we know that a person means well, still shut him off and fear him?
    How does the poet feel about being treated so, does he understand or should we fear he might end up a dejected soul?

  2. ohhh……those questions!

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