Legless
something wants to move.
where have you gone?
where is the world?
where are its inhabitants?
why don’t you hear them?
why don’t you speak to them?
how this huge world suddenly disappeared?
I did not die in it.
It just died in me.
I see it, but it is not there.
I don’t see it, I see my eye.
I don’t hear it, I hear my ear.
I don’t hold it, I hold my hand.
Something just swallowed the whole thing.
Movement became more important than what is moving.
Imagine swimming underwater.
You see arms above water once in a while.
I am walking on water.
I am swimming in air.
I fall into the water less frequently.
where is all that once moved you frantically?
I just got off the plane, and am walking.
I see less of the outside, more of the inside.
I just moved from a crowded city to a rural village.
I have been alone, but now there is no one.
I am shown the sky.
What are shoes to a legless?
There is almost no doubt in my mind.
So it is not moving, but moved.
I just woke up from a bad dream.
I am scared that I may fall back into it.
Freedom is so simple.
It is just there.
It is so accessible but so fragile.
How could I dare to touch another?
I would not even want to watch them.
I cannot take away their freedom.
I am not able to, anyway.
Access to another is impossible.
I would not want to be the reason,
they give their freedom away.