Floating through life, relying on nothing but pulse of the air To adjust my erratic direction.

We are silent partners, we’re friends and we’re strangers. We only have got one another; and

This mysterious, ever-expanding connection.

Corrections and shifts to the course - I’m not even tiniest bit bothered.

Another adjustment, Just keep looking straight -

Absorbing the impact. Accepting the truth as it chooses to step into action.

Impeccable timing, as always. Such is the arrangement that comes at no evident cost.

My options are tight, the plan has been written and sealed. The chapters have been pre-defined (if not all - then, probably, most).

The end to this story has one possible line.

Post-mortem, conclusions, and date.

Those are not mine to see, and they are not mine to write.

So I keep looking straight, Knowing that end of the day -

The world will continue alright.

The clock struck twelve and went in opposite direction. Unwinding mysteries, unearthing what was lost for good. Untangling the truth from infinite exhausted iterations of

white lies. And colored being though as such by just the eyes of the beholder. Whatever’s going to be left residing at the very bottom, unshattered, triumphantly resting as it would -

Among all Humankind Achievements, Failure, Pain, and Joy, Amidst the Power, Greed, and Fading Souls, held up together By a fine, most delicate of all existing matters - perceived as finite -

Yet in essence - standing still: Illusion of the Time.

It will write History anew from scratch. The type of story that would match the destination format.

Somebody’s eyes might glance once over your meticulously written, edited, recorded, polished, and cared for words and deeds. With single question, coming out as if it truly matters -

Why?

The symphony of their empathetic sighs Will make you shiver long deep in the ground, Or maybe somewhere far in outer space.

There as you gaze upon the tired Earth, Through layers of millennial pollution, Your message will get jumbled - there’s no doubt.

Revealing secrets of your living, Shouting at your very loudest as you may!

Just to relay what’s been inside Since you existed and since You’ve been gone:

The truth is that..

You haven’t found the answer.

The truth is that -

There’s none.

The line I have been walking Keeps getting thinner every day. I mean, it would be great to have a break in getting through.

But there is just no coming through those thick-laid bricks And spears and tricks that You’ve been plotting all around.

Adjusting my approach Does not seem to be yielding Any, even semi-decent crops. So I shall modify the gist.

Again and so it goes. On, and on, and on. You say a cold word. I, obviously fire back.

And so before we know it, The train of thought is Waved goodbye at. Gone. Forgotten.

All your intentions Seem to either be half-baked Or upfront rotten.

I try to give it one more shot. And Lord, thou be my witness. I can’t accept defeat.

Another twist, Another turn, The picture’s poorly lit.

I joined the ride I’m not too proud.

Such is the pay, I guess.

Now how do we Pull ourselves

By just a thread of hair Out of this righteous mess?

Walking down aisle four Disturbing passers by with my Intensely growling thunder-like, Three-days-I-haven’t-eaten, and Angry-as-a-beaten-beast demeanor.

Not knowing what I’m searching for. The food looks lovely. Take your pick. The shelves are full. I guess it’s good. But empty pockets tickle me these days. Which I don’t fancy, if I’m being honest.

I’d give a crap and take a crab If I came down from People magazine’s front page. My frownsome days blur into one now at the speed of light. Those jeans are sitting really nicely On such a tight condition.

Well that was quite sufficient, I would reckon. Such fancy, posh rendition. With empty pockets coming in. I’m leaving with an empty gaze. You know -

Just one of those - Blue or a white - it doesn’t matter Collar days.

Rinse and repeat?

Let me refresh the page.

You take a leap, and then another Thus moving forward proud two steps. Inevitably being thrown though Right back by five, or four, or three.

And every time you seemingly get closer There quite unfortunately seems to be Another obstacle across your way.

You wipe off sweat, your tears, and hopes You persevere further through your pain.

Yet in such dance and in such rhythmic pattern, ending with a sudden twist of wicked luck, you’re moving forward To reside in someone else’s shadow

Pursuing that which you don’t know In silence, and by touch - All in the dark.

Not daring to breeze through invisible divider you yourself engraved in front of your bare feet,

You still believe it’s out of reach Not grasping it’s been all along

Encoded in the language of your restless heartbeat.

Shouted at. In front of all. For no apparent reason. So she was. I’m sure that she moved on since then.

"She seemed quite strong."

I’m sorry, there was not too much I could have done. I would have if I could. Who truly wouldn’t?

Exiled and forced to leave, And so they left - I wonder why?.. To me they seemed just fine.

"I’m sure they’ll be alright in time."

I wonder now if there was Something I could have done? Or said or helped in any way. Who wouldn’t, if they could?

They worked so hard, For penny’s worth. A strike was called for, and Those changes - long past due.

"They’ve got their share, Of this, I’m sure!"

..They got policed And locked away For very long out of So few of their years.

The Earth is crying. In endless, ruthless, Pointless wars her Children suffer.

"They’ll live forever, nonetheless!"

Well, was there truly nothing I could do?.. What influence I had with just my voice? I’m not the press.

With all the women Challenged now to prove That they are worth, Forgetting their nature-given cause.

"Alas! We’re all the same."

Keep striving, winning, moving up Those fragile, blood-infused and Never-ending ladders. Just for a promise of somebody’s Fairness. And their seconds of success To witness - not to hold.

So many souls, just waiting In the line, their birth on hold. For when you have succeeded Just enough -

And when you raise your Filled with tears glass (one half) And sweat of efforts - For the other half;

You realize that you’re no longer ready and not able, to make those miracles, uniquely yours, come true.

Oh, how I wish and hope One day, we’ll see - that There’s a million things Combined in tiny efforts

That every single one of us Could do. One trembling Voice or line, or letter At a time. To start the wave From single drop.

All for a better future - Yours and mine.

It might not always break your way. But regardless of what others say - you should have at least tried

to carefully squeeze into that tiny window of opportunity. To make everything right and fall into place again.

Your heart might be broken, and your prayers - unheard; yet the world hasn’t ended. And even though it truthfully hurts

you have stood through the storm. The inevitables haven’t broken the vow that you’ve made to yourself.

You have walked the path where your soul instructed you be. You grew stronger and ready to power the winds of your Ultimate dream.

Don’t waste a moment of your life, For life is short.

Don’t spend your days to figure out Which way is right and which - is not.

Embrace your days, don’t kill your time, So that you wake up in the morning Knowing -

You’ve done exactly what you could And in the time that you’ve been given.

Annoyed, or angry, or frustrated With the cards that you’ve been dealt,

You never kneeled, did not give up, That you gave shelter to your closest - In the warmest corners of your heart.

That you’ve been honest with yourself And that transgressions of your youth have been forgiven.

Have no regrets about the past.

And if you’re lucky -

Your life will last a little longer then you were hoping that it would.

So you feel tired as a stranger Who walked an extra mile or two,

And even though it’s ending still, Though there is no unwinding your life’s story -

You would have let go of the worries And all you’d leave behind -

Would be your Kindness, Wisdom, Shining through the peaceful glory Of your eternal and transcendent smile.

"Is there life after one bad turn?" Those who look for excuses fail.

"Are there points of true no return?" Those who look for solutions prevail.

After one bad rhyme comes another; Yet you pick up your pencil and write.

You learn from the choices that drag, That destroy, and that pull you apart.

Change direction, without looking back, Striving only to hold what you’ve got.

Left?

You erase your mistakes with white deeds Then you rinse and repeat, repeat..

When the shape of that lego fits poorly, You might need to place a few more oddly shaped ones on top.

Right?

But until you run out of moves, You continue to play with your whole heart.

The game is not entirely over; Not until you put down your pen and give up.

Or until..

(Does it have to be said out loud?.. There’s no life only after we die..)

… "As I woke up this morning, the weirdest realization came to my mind - I was convinced I was someone else. Which might as well be true for so many of us in this room.

We are walking through our lives, with every single event making it their mission to shaken our beliefs of what is real and what is reflective of our inner selves. Regardless of what clothes, cologne or faces we wear, I hope that we all dare to summon the courage and strength to share our unique light and unique perspectives, regardless of how scary and surreal it might feel.

Isn’t being our truest selves - whatever circumstances and consequences dictate and, especially so, if they instruct otherwise - indeed the deepest meaning of life?"