The week long low-pressure was gone by the night. This morning was a bright one – just as the festival needs. But this weary mind sensed something else. It was so eager to leave the bed of the deadly illusion. Once again it wanted to face the world, but still as a stranger. It knew that it has to sail again but the port was unknown. I, too, was recovering from the fever and so was very enthusiastic to feed the mind. The sun came up above the head and then slowly bowed down again into the horizon. Every moment was embalming fire in my mind. Noises, known faces, smiles, and all ‘
make you feel good’ things were not allowed today. And the mind went so selfish that it denied even its own needs. By the afternoon, it sensed something was going and it was needed to be hold but it closed its eyes as it did not know anything. Acted too ‘
weary’. And I heard the train blew its last whistle…or maybe it was a ship… But today I could not fight with the mind. It was so powerful. And it whispered to me, ‘
we both are going to gain the crown’. And when I asked it how, it stayed silent…then silently it said, ‘
we have no choices to choose. We must play on.’ …
And the day slowly died on the margin of the dark green horizon. Somewhere a strong determination was building.The thin red line on the dark horizon did not evoke any poetry today, nor did it pour any inspiration. It rather showed how far we have to sail, how long the journey is going to be… But I could not see the shore… and it did not promise happiness at the end of the journey…but I must sail off.
O the past days, good or bad – however you were, here take my last message. “I’ll remember you always”.
“And I’ve waited at your side
I’ve carried the tears you’ve cried
But to win darlin’, we must play
So don’t hide your heart away…”
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