The Sky of Turki, a photograph by Ayda Sulianti
Waking up with that same old feeling
As presumptuous as the sound of my heart beating
Only it isn’t that, it is my past knocking
Peeping to steal my peace
The harder I try to ignore them
The louder the sound becomes
Echoing deep into my whole being
As the dark lingering smoke started to enfold my common sense
As if bundling me up for a sacrifice
Panic crept in, inches by inches
I could feel the pricking
Stung me frozen
Is it a dream? But why am I still here?
Floating nonsense, tormented with no pain
Broken hearted with no grief
Is it real? Is it me lugging this body?
Why everything moves in slow motion?
As if trying to photograph every details
Every move, every emotion
Million pieces of puzzle appearing out of nowhere
Takes me a while to see
They are pieces of my memories
Or are they scenes of never ending drama?
Are they mine?
This mosaic we called love
Or should we call it illusion?
Drawing me closer
So close, I am blinded
To the edge of self deception
Luring me to give in
Enticing me to surrender
I am sinking deep into the earth
I am flying, soaring into the sky
Which one is real?
Is it a dream?
I guess it doesn’t matter
Wannabe Zen 