The Art of Survival

The Art of Survival

He chose to live in a small house

in order to minimize the risk

of loneliness

empty spaces bleeding

walls and ceiling spluttering

a kind of silence

that sticks unless

you

are quick, precise and preferably

nimble with using your hands' wide surface

molding, crushing its flatness, cleansing

at once

all noise irregularities

So he was told to face south-east

each morning around ten

and wait or walk

for as long as he could take

the waiting or the walking without

questioning

limbs loose, mind

listening

though, the deaf thump

of flesh hitting

glass as an an absurd conviction

at regular intervals

made him fear

the sound

of humans working

their way upward

a sort of blindness

an irrational faith in things or

their quest for enlargement

Then again

this whiteness, the direction which could

mend

blemished rays'

sonorities

so he strengthened his pace -

waiting or walking -

allowing the wind to blow

peacefully

within oxalis' fields and

gypsy butterfly

queens

© 2016, José Coelho