We are tired, me and my soul. My body is tired and my heart too. I feel like an elven creature, ordered to depart to Valinor, even if they don’t want at all. They want to live a hobbit life, among fields of wheat and forests filled with mysteries.

They want to run through wilderness with a bow and arrow and shoot the falling stars.

But they are also taken by the hand and pushed on the boat. To leave forever.

And that way I feel lately. Out of place in immortal land. Leaves and pine needles in hair, among the marble statues made of perfection. Wearing a stone gown, that traps them in the moment, while the exact moment is causing their skin bleed.

I want to dive into secret pond, in a garden of moss delights. I want to hold my breath forever, looking as bubbles of immortality drift to the surface. Exile me from Valinor, give me something to sing about.

Something wild. Something strange. And at the same time completely normal.

Give me life that I could call my own. Even if for a moment, which would replace the one I am trapped in.

Give me a wind that would take my breath away and filled my lungs with juvenile joy.

The boat drifts on my shore… like a reminder… and like a promise. This creature is scarred but still so alive.