New Day
I am standing in the line.
Hungry and broken.
Never become somebody this way.
I cannot even help myself.
Baked by trying.
Life is falling apart under my hands.
Not one step closer to being fully me.
Facing a divorce for a dead marriage.
That railway outside the city.
Ran nowhere, I am lost.
No stop with living water to find.
Look for the last page of doom.
Sign with no lament.
My love affair is hanged to death too.
The text message is clear.
But I have got nothing to complain.
Beautiful woman with long legs.
With sense and reason.
The great career in a leather chair.
Does not exist.
I had a proud looking business card.
Unemployed again.
Someone tapped on my shoulder.
I got scared as usual.
The radio Ego at full blast.
It was Karl.
Would you accept a part-time job at my home?
We would be happy if you were with us.
The helping hand taken with no hesitation.
Karl did not talk much.
Assigned me a small room.
It is cluttered with furniture and junk.
The space is smelling of old wood and dust.
Maybe I hear some gypsies.
I am thinking where to start.
Throw everything out.
Unnecessary stuff.
Sweep the area within the village standard.
Keep the amount to a minimum.
Everything is like from an antique store.
Change the space several times.
I need to feel good.
Karl appeared with his wife.
There is a light smile on his face.
I lay down in the massive bed.
Legitimately tired.
Fell asleep, finally.
Life goes on at its village pace.
It is a new morning.
The sun illuminates the vineyard strip.
The air is damp.
It cuts gently into the face.
Tufts of irregular grass underfoot.
Definitely no golf here.
Karl is busy working in the lower garden.
Ridiculously floppy hat and glasses.
He's not a big guy, but he does his thing.
Unseen confidence is peeking out.
I haven't unpacked yet.
But I will do.
I have received exclusive working conditions.
Work whenever I want to.
Set the pace entirely by myself.
The number of hours is counted by the local cuckoo Helga.
There is a pile of dirt waiting to be disposed around the vineyard.
I could handle that.
I've been working since morning.
I dig up dirt and use the wheelbarrow.
Enjoy the solitude among the trees.
I watch myself biting off dirt all day.
Recording what is happening within.
Dry hands are touching the wooden handle.
Simple rhythm dictates the pace of work.
Time passes unnoticed.
Not in a hurry.
The farmer's tractor barks in the distance.
It gets colder.
The sky is turning red.
Orange horizon beyond the edge.
Is my reward for sweat.
A few more wheelbarrows.
Tomorrow will be a new day.
New time.
Will be discovered.
This took place the day before the experience that revealed the Time.
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New Day Poem - Video