Blog for Nameless-Value

novel, essay, poetry, criticism, diary

At Turn to Next Season

Second half of autumn offers us unexpected strongly stinging sunbeam, when it is sunny day.


Midst winter strong sunny beam is anytime ready for coming for any walker, but at turn to winter, so many heavy downpours or stormy weather toughly attacks us, thus strong sunbeam in stinging to our skin is so out of the blue to us, its thing makes us carelessness to prevent us from disclosing to sunny temperature in our skin.


But it simultaneously sends us chilly windy air occasionally, with it, we know the coming of winter.


To society, I get the feeling, no more needless request demand, sometimes please leave me alone, I shout in my mind to all society offering numerous information.
These are all colored so meddlesome to all individual citizens, but unnecessary services and hospitality must never cease, its acting must be pretending to be kind and just, but its way to be would be so disgusting, but of course I say nothing of it to anybody.


But probably anybody wants to have spending time only in remembering private matter or deep thinking to anything, but almost of these wishes are apt to be vanished by social busy moving and our own making grouping action, but so exhausted to be vigilant to them, perhaps busy information itself would be either so, I feel.


Tough my imagination to the one who left me now, where is she now, anybody would be the same where is he? Where is true being myself used to be present but now felt only vaguely and hardly to be tangible even to any myself.


No matter what happens either here, winter must come again to us, when it comes, how would I think of you?


I wonder how and what it would carry to me, in my life, otherwise another meeting might have waited for me anywhere, might haven’t it?


Song is never sung in duty we have a feeling of it, it essentially only is sung in spontaneity. I feel so obliged to society in mood of now.


Any meeting is either.


Any mind must go somewhere, any person either.
Nothing is changed in world.
But its destination never knows.


Something had in mind sometimes pulls me in so by itself, but tomorrow morning must tell me new mission just that time can tell me, so either mission is spontaneous, it is my thing but either never my thing.


I shout to my mind making it other one to me, change your past memory in another phase you can analyze, both enjoyable and sad to your new creating thing.


When I get to that feeling, night chilly air coming into my room accidentally I make window open in no intending to switch the air.


Tomorrow never knows, but I would breathe another air and temperature with my skin.


(Oct. 29-30th. 2019)