Voltage in the mask of Secrecy

Voltage in the mask of Secrecy

At this moment, where life seems to contradict the values invested in me.
And what is life but your patience wearing thin.
What have I become I have become.
I lead by faith as though a sinner,
as I only became a sinner -
as I learned how to take stronger breaths.
Powerful breaths...
of which betrayed my senses all along.
This aversion to detail,
an unconscious framework of pure intentions and of evasive qualities.
I look. I look,
everywhere.
And I feel finer granules of sand beneath my feet.
To talk is to feel these things as they are written.
To read is to perform these things as they are read.
Coffee is on the menu.
I can taste its velvety aroma lingering through the air.
So all around me is on this island,
of chance, of character, of voltage.
Languages I see.
I see more than I can hear them.
Many many many languages.
If the romance lasts, it will forever last.
Because romance is a lost art.
And I intend to find it,
buried by natural causes.
Romance is dead.
How very funny.
A sad smile if there is such a thing.
Perhaps that is what Mona Lisa was asked,
so she smiled sadly.
I inventively created a masterpiece,
sworn to secrecy.
Not when or how.
Not what or where.
Not who or why.
I don't know if this journey should it last,
be a blank page
or a wicked adventure.
Words have a power to manifest reality,
this mask I put on.