Thursday, February 19, 2015

Who is sure?




Why am I not a star?
Why am I not a sun?
I am just a point, running and running, 
a random point on a random circle.
Just whirling around.
Less or more, I don't know.
Questions are huge, who is sure?

Running away from real, escaping towards life.
Blissful sensations of positive sadness or the hollow joy of victory.
What is the centre of your circle?
Questions are huge, who is sure?

The souls worn out of mediocrity.
In the race of tangibles, losing on intangibles.
Better or worse, its relative.
Where is the absolute?
Questions are huge, who is sure?

-vC

(Dedicated to a friend who is shivering in the minus 12 degrees of Annandale, Washington DC)