05
Feb
15

Roundabout

Picture 045

There were many people, clatter, uproar, bustle,
There were high grasses and cathedrals,
There were citadels and big towers
And many corridors of stone
Bridges and medieval boroughs
Shady sounds and slithering touches
Cold and warm glances
Plenty of unknown faces
There were flat fields, hills and peaks
It was winter and in next moment it was summer
There were children turning into adults
There were adults turning into children

There were many foxes and rabbits
There was a big crowd of masks
There were coshes and dried flowers and a group of men dressed in white
There were old maids emptying their perfume bottles into swamps
There were guns and trumpets for hunting
There were bridges, there were houses, there were towers, and valleys,
There were high hills and mounds, there were all kind of grasses,
There were cages here and there

There were gates that disappeared as soon as I passed through them
There were melting faces, flowing on the pavement
There were gazes sinking in my chest like daggers
There were arms hanging on to me and fists punching me
There were noblemen and servants and spies
There were men sentenced to death and executioners and women dressed for hunt

There were corridors of stone that I was running through
I didn’t know where I was running
I had to turn back over and over again
I had no idea why

There were wise men and fakirs, saints and acrobats,
There were women with very long legs
There were warlocks and diplomats and policemen
Important political figures
And they were all talking at the same time

Somewhere, far away, inside me
There was you…

 

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copyright Ilinca Bernea

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