Stimulated Shape

Stimulated Shape


At first I don't know whether I should starve and wait

while signs and hitchhikes will cross the brooks from within

or plainly stick up to the calling I might come up to

they say I should stride to the voices

but then again the echoes desert an empty room behind

a room where I tend to shed what's left inside me

so I find myself in search of a vent to glide through

a place where the air doesn't fit nor reach

nonetheless here I stand again to the cliff I once adored

writing, experimenting, digesting the still noise

diving into an unknown ocean where several

emotions appear in colourful forms and patterns

an ocean devoid of storms and howls

consisting of pure peace longing to be pieced and loved