Transition

Behind your every gesture there’s now an empty space. Empty bodies can’t play tricks with minds, nor do they feel joy or kindness, or speak words that echo in your mind. Empty bodies do not even have shadows, for they do not leave marks on earth. They only come to meet you with suspicion and fear, and defensively, every word they say is evil.  And after a youth lived among empty bodies, you get tired of mischievous…

But I have always wondered where their souls go, or what did the devil give them in exchange. Or maybe there are no devils and angels, but only sinners who live.

I’m not one of them, but I am not a god either. Still, I sometimes sit on a bench in the middle of the sea, and look at them through their bodies, to see if there could be one who could grow wings. None of them knows that they already have them on the inside, hidden in their lungs, waiting to turn black or white. They only follow rivers they come across, hoping they will reach a beautiful place. They say that ignorance is blessing, but I have learned that it’s a curse they can’t undo. Otherwise, I would have told them long ago that every place they reach, every room they own and furnish is actually the tangible version of their souls. We live in ourselves, therefore it’s our inside we must care for, not the empty walls of our homes. And I have become tired and desperate after seeing them die, day by day, because they were too easily fooled by their wishes. You’d never think that, but that is where devils always hide, or haven’t you known why we are all sinners? Whenever we raise our hand to reach something outside or bodies, a devil is there to guide the pale hand of ours. We all want things we can touch with our hands, when we should only create things with our minds; devils can never reach there.

_______________

I remember he was once a beautiful human. The most soulful human I had ever seen, and therefore I wanted his soul, to have and too keep. He once had the most beautiful black eyes, which would move gently, like they followed ideas through the air, and the most beautiful heart, from which he could only emerge kindness. He used to speak words beautifully, and give me shivers with his looks. But a devil once misguided him to fame, and from then on, he became emptier with every passing day, until he was no longer a soul, but only a body. I now wish nothing more than to bring him to life again, but I cannot succeed if he does not turn his eyes to me. He is blinded by the black wings he grew, by all the devils that he followed.

In the end, I know that by saving him I would pave my way to hell, because within him I have finally found an outside wish to follow. He is my devil.