Out from a reverie
From all the baggage we carried from our yesterday to all the transient dreams we placed ourselves in, We came making up the stories, we wished to hear to let them conceal the rumblings of our kins. We hurled questions, objections, ideas of fear and rejections at each other's face probably everything our faces could bear. We defied the questions and ideas of sins, within the subworld we built from our souls, bones and skin. Yet, when I traded my own, for this subworld, no sooner did I realise that it's too rich,too warm too fine to acquaint my restlessness with a home. But my disquiet needs a shelter. Soon. Very soon. Tell me, Would you mind if I burn the baggage and ditch the dreams? Would you care if I take back my investment of words from the stories Would it be hard for you too, if I expose myself to those discontentments again? Would you remember if I back out and for...