Wasted Beauty

Wasted beauty by Agni Pyrovetsi

I can shape the world with my mind, design a picture-perfect life. Draw a smile or a sun filled with light and create the possibility of an eternal sight.

I can even touch the sky, ablaze with bright hues of sapphire, and have the fragrance of freesias filter to my lungs as I amble among the meadows of paradise. I hear the rustling of the foliage and I feel enlivened with every aria of the nightingale.

I stare at the gleaming river and ponder what is reflected, dream from dawn till dusk and get lost in the astonishing drapes of life to break the obscure codes of the unexpected. But as I wander aimlessly through those ceaseless aisles of life,

I keep asking myself, “What is it really like to feel alive?”