I walk alone through the bleak boulevard of languor,
rapt in thought of my own perpetual turmoil –
What’s the matter? – A voice inside me rises up –
something is holding my scarce breath
is it myself I want to run away from?
It’s dark and cold,
All I can hear is this heartbeat of mine,
there is nothing but the wilderness ahead of me.
And alas! I guess it’s fine.
My feet are bare and I conflate with the ground,
I can feel the pebbles bulging into my skin,
my hair being flipped out by the morning wind,
My dress as if performing some weird dance with me.
It seems I’m more alive than I’ve ever been,
still there is something that pulls my life away – a tourniquet?
Baffled as I am, I keep on following my untrodden path,
speeding up or speeding down.
There! I see what I must be after – Nirvana awaits me at the end
of my quaint dream in Wasteland.
By Meggie Radeva