Locked up in bodyshells,
Each one collapsed into apoint
Subjected to the chance of a movement.
Each one is a contradiction,
A collision of two beginnings
But each one is a gist of the infiniteness.
Life is close to the Brownian movement.
Flung by an invisible hand
We're flying in a cram of pain and discord.
We're walking alone,
Not able to touch
The real essens of each other's,
Muffling in rugs of emothions and meditations.
Iust slightly it dawns upon the world
Bask from the locked up frozen souls.
Just pain and loneliness
Help feel the moments of happiness and
And just like unexpectedly, by chance,
When there're wind and dark around
And no exit at all,
A glowing butterfly flies plump into the