the start
This is where it will start. That is what you always said to me. And so the trees were singing our song, the birds were circling our heads like halos, (then will I sprinkle clean water upon you, and ye shall be clean: from all your filthiness, and from all your idols, will I cleanse you in the name of the father and of the son and of the Holy Spirit,) and the wind ruffled our hair so we would feel akin on this one day and then never again. We could smell of hope and fears safely locked into the shelters.
And so the sun poured ultraviolet radiation over us so we would remember and we had just hatched. Egg shells were lying in circles around us, but not here, never here. We hadn’t been here for more than a minute, but we already knew the rules. It was very clear: There were no egg shells. There had never been any.
So we remembered to forget them, we couldn’t mess up now. Not now, not when everything was about to start.
We had been competing with the night, showing our anxiety on patterned towels and stuffed ourselves full of sugar and colouring matters. We had been hoping and dreaming and laughing and shaking our clothes to get rid of the sand. Global warming had smiled lovely at us, and we had smiled back. We knew we were ruling the world together. We had seen our friends drowning while the crowd screamed “Oh!” and “Ah!” and “What a lovely weather we have today!”. We had seen it all. We had been the kings and the world our playground. We were the coolest kids and no one had ever walked this world as beautifully as we had. But our divinity was slowly fading along with the mosquito bites. It was all in our heads now.
Fragments of our past were everywhere. They were around our feet, inside our clothes and in our minds, taking us over like cancer. I will cleanse you in the name of the father and of the son and of the Holy Spirit. We shook shook shook our bodies to get rid of them. Our smiles worked as buffers. We could take everything they would come with, but we kept shaking. We did not forget perfection. We couldn’t. Not yet. There was still hope. And so we kept shaking.
Our smiles worked as buffers. And so they couldn’t break me from the outside. You could never break me from the outside.
It’s alright, that is what you said. It’s alright. Now, we all feel a little different when the world pulls us down from the stratosphere. We nodded. Believed, but never belonged.
We shifted our gazes in secret. But it was alright, we all did. It’s alright. But there was something terribly wrong. And as we thought this isn’t logical this isn’t logical it wasn’t logical at all.
It’s alright. We were ready now, ready to fly. Our wings were open, and this is where it starts. That is what you always said to me to us. We were so close. We had never been this far.
And so the sun poured ultraviolet radiation over us so we would remember and we had just hatched. Egg shells were lying in circles around us, but not here, never here. We hadn’t been here for more than a minute, but we already knew the rules. It was very clear: There were no egg shells. There had never been any.
So we remembered to forget them, we couldn’t mess up now. Not now, not when everything was about to start.
We had been competing with the night, showing our anxiety on patterned towels and stuffed ourselves full of sugar and colouring matters. We had been hoping and dreaming and laughing and shaking our clothes to get rid of the sand. Global warming had smiled lovely at us, and we had smiled back. We knew we were ruling the world together. We had seen our friends drowning while the crowd screamed “Oh!” and “Ah!” and “What a lovely weather we have today!”. We had seen it all. We had been the kings and the world our playground. We were the coolest kids and no one had ever walked this world as beautifully as we had. But our divinity was slowly fading along with the mosquito bites. It was all in our heads now.
Fragments of our past were everywhere. They were around our feet, inside our clothes and in our minds, taking us over like cancer. I will cleanse you in the name of the father and of the son and of the Holy Spirit. We shook shook shook our bodies to get rid of them. Our smiles worked as buffers. We could take everything they would come with, but we kept shaking. We did not forget perfection. We couldn’t. Not yet. There was still hope. And so we kept shaking.
Our smiles worked as buffers. And so they couldn’t break me from the outside. You could never break me from the outside.
It’s alright, that is what you said. It’s alright. Now, we all feel a little different when the world pulls us down from the stratosphere. We nodded. Believed, but never belonged.
We shifted our gazes in secret. But it was alright, we all did. It’s alright. But there was something terribly wrong. And as we thought this isn’t logical this isn’t logical it wasn’t logical at all.
It’s alright. We were ready now, ready to fly. Our wings were open, and this is where it starts. That is what you always said to me to us. We were so close. We had never been this far.