In where I’m from,

There is a light, a never fading,

Permanent light. The sun. An

Artificial light, blinding those with hope,

Blinding those in need.


In where I live,

There is peace, an eternal peace,

Under the disguise of humanity. A

Spark of hope, blown off by the norm

Blown off by the wind.


We chase the light, not questioning,

Whether it is really what we want desperately


We ponder about the peace, whispering,

About the order gained in expense of freedom and creativity  


Those who can see, are lost

Those who find peace, are enraged

People say one place is ugly, the other one pure beauty,

Yet they all boil down to the same thing –


A war between human conditions and reasonings,

Of absolute black and white,

Of fire and ice,

Of black ice and dying lights…

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