Samson

I've cut my hair

a while ago

but I didn't make you 

choose

perhaps that was

my mistake

or maybe simply

you didn't understand

you've cut your hair

a week ago

such a loud and final

full stop

the visible sign

of cutting me

just under my knees

so I can fall

and if no-one listens

- and no-one does - 

there will be no sound

in respect to my mouth

it will stay silent

just the same

maybe some day

they will tell

beautiful stories

about all of that

and later on

immortalise it

in amber

(that's a nice thought)

or maybe - 

- maybe they won't

Fall

Sun rays devour vast meadows around us. We are far away from every city; in a place where even few steps seem like an endless distance; where minutes become an eternity. Violets and aquamarines dance on our faces - it is cold and our insides start to cover with all the shades of blue. None of us moves, we squint and become even more impermeable. We try to hide heads in our shoulders. 'Maybe we should go', says one of us and we both agree. Yet - immobility sets even stronger in our bodies and I can feel how my hair grows and pierces the ground, how my fingers claw to the grass to become roots, how my heart beat slows down. It's so quiet and so bright. Image of you, hidden behind my eyelashes, is blurred and out of focus. It's so easy to forget that you are still here. Planes that are cutting through the sky above us are mute and leave only white scratches behind. I want to become a sound, I want you to become a sound - even though it travels so much slower than the light. I imagine you start to laugh. It awakens earthquake beneath us. Leaves from my hair start falling down.