It’s not important to remember days, and wonder
why has our time become so slow;
it doesn’t matter anymore if there’s no thunder,
after the rain, before the bow…
It matters not why in our backyard’s desert,
there are no camels and the Bedouins have left;
what truly matters is a sense of water,
illusion wildly clenching to my chest…
Tired, alone and ravaged by disasters,
battled by winds having no taste of sea,
sold by myself to unforgiving masters,
too thin to die, too obvious to see…
In no-man’s land they’re selling cheap allotments,
graveyards to be, or not to be;
some weird biochemical arrangements,
for my abandoned christmas tree…
THEORETICAL PHILOSOPHY 
This is a truly excellent poem. Each line delivers an impact that carries me along to the final two lines where I am left with the feeling that you have abandoned something you no longer need.
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My dear Friend, thank you so much for your kind comment, and honouring visit. I would agree wholeheartedly with your thoughts. I had the same feelings, especially the end, where I felt the abruptness of a loss I can’t decide if regretted or not…
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