Life and I. Distances.

Sometimes, between life and I, there is a very thin glass.

I can perceive its manifestation, but I can’t touch it.

I can sense its manifestation, but it seems as distant as another galaxy.

Often, it looks like a cinemascope projecting scenes of a life that I seem to understand its circular, amazing, and predictable movements, but I don’t have the feeling of being part of it.

And, when it happens, I try to enter the projected maze through some mental shortcuts, but these journeys are brief because, eventually, it always leads me back to the observer’s seat, to a place where life moves in a different direction and timeframe, but somehow resembles the scenes displayed in the screen.

It always feels like a superimposition of dissimilar ideas on a homogeneous topic, i.e., they seem to be identical, but when you zoom in, it reveals startling differences.

An absence of being in a non-present existence.

A mismatch of thoughts in a semantic cacophony.

A love letter in a bottle swallowed forever by a whirlpool.

A mellifluous whistle lost in the black hole of non-substance.

Meanwhile, life gently passes by while I watch it with curiosity, some disappointment, and wonderment.

How to cite this Natural Poem:

Cargnin dos Santos, Tadany. Life and I. Distances.