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The Raven and the Squid

January 7, 2018

 

 

Part I

Pieces of color decorate the space

Flying around in patches of smoke

4 walls

The spherical environment of their

Visual perception

Black birds

Flying in their chests

Breaking through the cage

Of the gloomy July night

They had kept the ravens inside

To not attract any unwanted attention

They were here

And so was the summer

This grey July

That seemed to want to proof to them

That climate change was

No joke

Or was it just the false memory that told her,

That in her childhood

The month of July had actually meant and felt

Summer.


 

Part II

This year was to be different

The privilege of her childhood

Had become clear to her
But here she was
Stuck on a weekend

That would only come after 5 days had passed -
10
10 Euros was her time worth
10
10 Euros for all the things she would actually want to be doing
And
Then Fall
And
Then get up
and go to work.
 

 

Part III
 

She was still flying
Her feathers had become part of the dark blue carpet
That seemed to reflect the color of the night sky
She dropped her feathers on the floor
In rage
In agony
In restless routine
Trying to break out of the bars around the cage.
The colors were warping
The shapes
Into new forms of realities
The black birds sailed
Through vivid spheres,

Diving through

Circles of light,

Quares of shadows,

Lines of bright blue color

The bright blue line that

She followed

That showed her

How to survive

Day by day

Flying through the pillars

Of other people`s dreamscape palaces

Building walls of houses

Getting one`s 10.000`s pair of hands

And jeans

Dirty

To chip in

To the neighbours project

To eagerly build a new nest for themselves,

That would then shield them

From ever having to see each other again.

 

Part IV
Like ants were they coming together
To help each other to build their walls
The walls
In between which

The ravens would be raging
To free themselves
From all the night sky feathers,
The maker of their shimmering apparel,
Their glamour
Their sparkle
Leaving the feathers behind,
Lighter than air,
And naked like babies,
They travel through the grey
July breeze
Down the balcony,
Into the universe,
Leaving their marble bodies
Trapped behind them
Within the 4 walls
They have so eagerly built for themselves
To not be confined
By other people's imaginary walls
Save within their own.
Each their own.

 

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