The wonder and great beauty of finding yourself alone, with yourself and by yourself, while all the rest, for an infinite moment, is nothing.
People, still or moving, like simple elements, sometimes obstacles to go around, and just a few, very few individuals with circulating blood, bringing colour in the midst of the black and white masses.
Your recognize them by the light. They are smiles who walk, who illuminate and make life magic. They don't fight, they speak. They don't sleep, they dream. They hold the energy that can speak out to the world.
Their embrace casts aside cold and fear, and if you look at them against the light you discern long crystal wings which, invisible, adorn their shoulders and their soul. When the fall they get back up and honour themselves and the others, rare and precious, but everywhere, us.
Free to live or die, extraordinary seekers, unceasing travellers on the journey towards the true, the goal that isn't there.
And the colour, the dreams, those wings that bring them far, against the light, and the soul. The same homozygote thoughts.
The wonder, and the magnificent beauty of finding yourself alone, with yourself and by yourself, to be able to glimpse, against the light, with the light and without.
Still and always free to believe.