Memoir 7

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic


7
Daydream.  An endless dream.  The more a person thinks about the one thing he has not seen, the one thing he desirously wants to see, the further he is lost in his nap.  At one point he saw a thousand roads, at one point he saw a winding road that stretched far, at one point he saw a straight road with a crumbling bridge, at one point he saw an upright staircase with no end in sight, at one point he saw only the dark abyss under the soles of his feet.
 What is the correct answer?  People always have answer for every question of yours – that's what other people say.  But how to find the right answer among the piles of other people's words, which may even exist only to cover their indifference.  Does someone have to try one by one ?
 At the end of the road are twelve intersections, with arrows and signposts on each path.  The traffic light hanging overhead flashed in chaos, in the middle of the intersection lay the dead body of a stray cat.
So who's at fault?  Others ?  No. In the end, idealism, as well as personality that rejects reality, will go astray.  Get lost, or rather stop.  Ended up in the middle of the road, and rotted with the carcass of the stray cat.
 
2021/05/10


Submitted: November 20, 2021

© Copyright 2021 An Karana. All rights reserved.

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