steps and snowflakes,
what a symphony.

white and gray and brown and black
imaginary souls locked in people’s chest
doves and cobbled stones
steam and spoken words
breath and breath and breath

worlds chasing worlds induced by the gravity
bringing grave situations that brain isn’t made to understand
and movement,

aligned, vectorial,
perpetually drawn to each broken piece of each broken piece of self
all to end

in a shout, a cry,
in a electromagnetic gravitational pull stronger than gravity itself
imploding like white dwarves to create a darkness darker than darkness itself
and then to move,

heavy, static,
movement for the sake of movement
words for the sake of speech
and touch for the sake of adding
to one
to one
to infinite!

and it all goes on,
and goes
until it stops;
there’s no use blaming inertia, nor the astral movements, nor the gods

just walk,
head high, down, on the sides,
however you please;
no one is to blame, blame no one.


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