It reaches me as I wake.
A temperature devoid of color and luster.
The feet of sand crumble as I try to stand.
Ultramarine, sea-like, drifts.
I couldn't say a word until the end.
I recall a delicate silhouette.
The distance of a receding heart.
The box of the next memory slowly fills.
If it keeps opening, will I meet it someday?
I keep having such dreams.
In the same world.
In the same moments.
Forever.
With one fragment of a pristine wing in my hand.
Onto the silver upper pan.
The torque that keeps changing.
I extend my heart.
Too pale and dull to be dyed by either side.
As if smiles and tears were mixed.
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The final feather soars upward.
Falls quietly.
Leaving a shadow behind.
And thus the balance will never tilt again.
I wonder if there is something at the end of the journey.
A place of truth that resembles longing.
I walked in search of what lies beyond forever.
The flickering flame in a wavering vision.
It suddenly vanished, leaving the path cut off.
Now I rely on the shining dot behind my eyelids.
I will find it at the end of the journey.
Beyond eternity.
The feather of truth.