This Read Can Be A Bird

This read can be a bird...

Because, sometimes I am running in a dream of feathers
I don't know where I'm going....
I enter space after space after space, trying to get out of the place... Colors are haunting me...
Something is behind me, whispering... It is the imagined rainbow of my imagination...
Kaboenk, kaboenk, kaboenk...
goes the echo of the shadow of my heart...my heart has no color in the gap of my chest and no ground has my road... I hover there...among voices of voices and chants of chants
captured by endless mantra's
of a returning reverie...
am I a prisoner


of hope ...