Delicate Feathers

Episode 13

I think it started when I had the delicate feathers, I was so open to the colours of the universe, so I painted cosmos in my head, and thought my chest is vast and spacious to inhale the cosmic knowledge. The delicate feathers which created my wings had no strength to carry the slightest weight of my presence, but my will was enough to bear with the weight of the world as my perception about it was not as the perception of the blind crow writing now .... which I regret, but I like in a way.

Growing older is the easiest thing that can ever happen to someone who painted all th colours in the head and lost sight and vision then realized the truth behind the visual illusion and hypnosis painted in the living portrait of chaos.
The growth of will I believe is not the same as the growth of the delicate feathers ..... for my will planted the thorns on the cross the day they painted the portrait of my crucifixion. I really don't know if I am blessed or cursed ...... but all I know is I joined philosophers, madmen, and even prophets in both belief and solitude.