SIGAW: KRISIS

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a sudden high,
a sudden low.
a sudden gush,
a sudden blow.

of years to wait,
of years to dream,
of years of not doing,
of years of not belonging.

there will always be a stop – a time where one wishes that he had lived a different life, if only he had chosen to follow the road and crossed that detour a few years ago. but then again, had he chosen the other path, he may not have met an unfamiliar stranger, this person who changed his direction, his route for the time being.

but then again, the comma he now has is nothing but an extention of his surname, much like a father’s junior or his grandfather’s the third. only that the corporate savages see a market value in it, a mark, a testament to four or five years of burning brows and bushes, figuratively at least. and he lives in this world of savages – chaotic, cruel, unforgiving. and fortunately or unfortunately, he may become one of them, sooner or later - not out of will, but out of need.

he is not made to count numbers nor to create magical formulas for computations to become an entertaining game, or an inescapable labyrinth. he is not created to analyze increases and decreases of accounts and to materialize a certain percentage of creativity out of it. he is not meant for understanding numerous transactions and documenting the same like published articles in a collegiate newspaper.

he is simply this – a mad man formulae dosed to create a percentage of published articles in some free world atmosphere.

and that, he is not doing, nor he, becoming. at least, for now. at most, not for now.

but then, until when? until when stranger, until when…