The lights showcase silhouettes. These silhouettes disguise themselves with shadows and come across and from you like a hungry wolf. Contemplating the city that gave birth to you and getting dizzy with their dancing lights and fuzzy lines. You grasp the grass in your hands, itching in your legs and getting on your back. It’s fresh, cold and wet. On the other hand, the jet black skies greet you with a starless smile. They follow the shining of the city. Getting lost within it’s light. Inside your eyelids, a million roots, intertwining like maps show you the way to the Cosmos. But the city does not let you get there. You’re stuck here, in this midnight greenfield; where everything’s black but surrounded by dim lights. Oceans, earth, sand or stardust. You’re followed by light but reside in darkness. Cosmos will lead you to the light. To the centre of everything. To the centre of the splendid shine that gets you dizzy and arouses your soul in astounding ways. The light echoes in the ocean, light echoes everywhere. But not deep within your soul. Inside is pitch black and that darkness is hard to avoid. The darkness sometimes swallows you in and gets you into the endless abyss of lonesome and desperation. But yet again, the lights showcase silhouettes. Silhouettes that explore what your soul could be. There’s something inside. Here’s something undeveloped. Unshakeable and unnoticeable. Perceptible but not grasped. Let men burn everything. Let men burn your soul, as it is unnoticeable, let them burn it all. Men burn stars, whole planets and ideals. They’ll surely destroy your soul with a whisper. ‘Cause this soul trembles and doubts like no other. It does not stop. And it does not surrender to the simple ways of everyone else’s brains. These silhouettes will surely burn to the ground and die forever, without having the grace to be shown. Letting the World ignorant of such enormity. But what is to come anyway? Your soul is not endangered yet. Not in here. You’ll contemplate the skies, the city lights, your own wretched soul and the shadows of a greatness never accomplished but obtainable somehow. The grass will keep you warm in it’s eerie temperature. The grass will lull you to sleep. Lull you to dream. Grasping a million hands, a million bodies and hundreds of minds. In a second, you feel as if eternal. You feel like wrapping the whole World inside that grass cradle. Have you ever had the feeling of imploding in the centre of the Universe? Well, I have. Implode in the core of everything, wrapping it all and just conforming the whole Cosmos for another race to investigate and wonder about. To be so mysterious a billion minds can’t quite decipher yet. That’s the goal that’s got this mind. To be undecipherable. Although this soul’s screaming for comprehension. The contradictions of this all… The battles that go with this chain of thoughts. Eating the sanity off this life. Eating the sanity inside this dark garden with views of city nights. But just the thought of wrapping everything. Of being attached and embraced to hundreds of arms and bodies. To feel as if belonging. To feel as one of the rest. Not changing anything and just enjoying the whole picture from afar and at the same time belonging to the masterpiece. Perhaps not quite belonging. But this is what this soul’s got. No shame with this. Pride is all there should be. Or at least knowledge. Sometimes the pictures are so great, the stories so beautiful; that yeah, it is hard to feel part of it. Flawed, perhaps, to contemplate such wonder and perfect skies. To just recreate the feelings, to feel as if one of them. God, I’ve always wanted to take part of a beautiful picture, a masterpiece of words… An astounding story. With love and hatred, with passion and fury. But no, I wouldn’t like being so perfect either. I’d just like to be myself, but better. I’d just like to at least belong to these dark paths contemplating city lights. But I just stay here in strange environments with broken pieces and contorted opinions. What? Contorted? Blended and expanded. I just know I’ll -someday- be sitting in this eerie and dark grass, contemplating mute stars and instead of the Cosmos, just getting the light from a far civilization. Perhaps with someone. Perhaps with that someone. Well, cut the perhaps. It’ll happen. And I’ll belong to that perfect picture for a moment.