GOING UP ON DECK

A new day, and I keep on surfing the lands of the unconscious, extracting a precious gem from inside the shell. It can’t get through the clock with no advice, with no concern, because it is a must for the ship to leave the port towards new destinations. There will be no days without a log, a print on the memory and dark witness from the lightness as well as the heavy weight load. I am a caterpillar climbing up the rose stem, embracing the thorns, rising up to reach the corolla. The ride, described without presumptions, unfolding like that innocent blossom, with nuances from the hidden palette that colors us. The memento in the throat, I am choking on a tiny seed that can open and grow inside, like a tree, like a damn sequoia. The pruning of desire, the contention against decadence, the incandescent spit of a lava wave holing the new curtains, the incorporeal tsunami threat trespassing floodgates while sleeping… all of that, and more, is in the womb of the expenses we incurred in. Like a fetus in splitting mode, multiplying like survivors grouped in a cluster, Siamese twins connected to a great degree, inseparable in this case. We are multitude, we are one, we can defeat the plague on board of the mother vessel, and we can be the rescued bather who got offshore, imprudent but brave. It is not enough to amend for our wrongdoing to limit the walk to a condemned roaming; the list of required requisites couldn’t fit any known manuscript. No laments, no regrets, just a new page, prospecting the new land and simply, this time, giving away your life to do things well. B_Nour