Poetry

Am leaving,
my pains and wounds
the way Adam of Eden,
left the garden and its goods,
into the hostile woods,
of this world
 
 
older,
unmoved by cute cats,
calmly open to the idea,
that certainty, only exists,
in the sureness of death,
dusks, dawns, meals, love,
are all but ambivalences,
flimsy acquaintances.   
 
 
now hassling,
and constantly hustling,
to mend my souls’ light
snatched by the angry night
of this world where,
no one ever wins
 
 
so am leaving,
to begin, to start living,
to fall, and start loving,
on my own terms,
in my own way.