⊕ Love makes us mortal ⊗
To be a Butterfly in a garden of moth seems special,
To be a blue bug in a forest of green seems special,
To be in love in a world of gods seems special,
To die then is special.
I did but save her, yet now I sleep every night, uncertain if I shall wake up the next dawn. To deserve this is but to be cursed, to be cursed if but to die living.
It’s been 36 days since I had to run under the sky, no evidence, no proof of my innocence, still hiding. I wonder what my mother must be thinking, to be proud of me one day and ashamed to have hurt the very same woman. I wonder what the world must see me as now, a criminal, I wonder what she sees me as now…was she awake? Will she ever save me?
They say that Gods once walked this Earth, free as man, fell in love and hence grew old. It is said that man came from gods, as gods became mortal men. The roots of evil began with the seed of love. Was I the embodiment of evil now, for I did love her.
Days passed by in seconds and seconds in days, I was in but oblivion. It was unclear, whether I wanted justice or vengeance, but sure as hell were I, that I wanted my life back.
And so, as a new day finally broke out, I walked back, towards the horizon, to where I began this walk of solitude.
To have the true hunger to live comes from the taste of death, and I was hungry to live, not survive, to thrive not die.
That one phone call changed my life, perhaps it’s time I changed my own.
One step after another, towards…home.