Wings on the inwards

I had to be an angel,
but on carrying into effect
my wings were mounted within
and now I’m fated
to fly inside me only.
Due to the airflows
made by the wings
a lung disease harrows
my yearnings.
I am tired –
along the day
I make forced marches
between „to have...” and „to be...”
and all the night
I am wandering
among nightmares
in eyes with stares,
instead to star dance
in a blue flight
for the world love rite.
Countless times
I tried to escape –
to fly in the sky,
but a sticky
neuron trammel
pulled me down
indefatigable.

A thundering voice from far:
„You, do not try again ...;
the hungry is fastening you on the Earth ...;
you are a human being and
the human beings are
angels with the wings on the inwards.”



In the poem, the hungry is a neuronal one and it is reffering to everything the human being is looking for, including the hungry for blue.