The leaves and the rain drops share soft melodic whispers around me, they are inviting me to their storytelling. They cover my eyes and blur my vision, detaching me from reality, only to submerse me even more in their small poems.
In the end, these are the secrets of the world; you know you shouldn’t be distracted, who are you to decide how important they are? You are a mere being that is barely alive, barely breathing the magic that these secret omniscient fairies are constantly blowing into your lungs.
Ah! These silly humans! They are doing so much damage, neutralizing these spells with black magic, the pollution of stupidity and blinding and unrealistic necessity.
However, they care so much that they carry our stories and they share them between each other, to find ways in which they can combine the colours of the sky, the scent of the wind, the whispers transmitted to our brain cells – all to comfort us. We are creatures full of so much pain and anger; we are so easily lost, like little lambs waiting to be eaten by madness.
Tales of longing, tales of passion and confusion, of freezing emptiness, of numbing loneliness, tales of letting go, of running away, of going back, tales of accidents, of mistakes, of fortune.
The all soak my clothes, reach my skin and slide gently, filling up multiple cracks where I have been hurt, covering my bruises – depersonalizing me, helping me forget who I am, helping me become everyone else. The essence of selflessness is mine to swallow, the pure way to happiness. No, not my happiness, what good would it do?
The soft, but strong light of everyone’s happiness, now mine to protect and carry on.