The corpse in my arms

I am standing on my knees in the dirt. I am embracing the body of the world. Its blood is flowing away and I don’t know how to stop it. A big black wound is shining on its chest, thousands of other cuts bleed everywhere. I know that I only have four minutes to save it. And then…

I look it in the eyes. And I see everything. I see a river descending to a new beginning, while the land around it blossom with life. I see the titanic clash of the mountain peaks and the thunders. I see the Sun, reigning high in its fiery might. The glass faces of the skyscrapers, reflecting the face of the era. The strings of cars crossing the earth, searching for the next goal. The endless work of machines charged by the human desire for progress. The colorful crowd on the street, celebrating the day. The sound of a piano coming from an open window. The hesitation in a girl’s gaze, followed by an irreversible decisiveness. The touch of two hands. A first urge for truth. Everything is kept in those eyes and it will remain there until they are open.

What happened? Tic-toc, tic-toc. The clock’s second hand was moving. Rule of society, walls on the borders, chips in the hands for door opening, green women on the traffic lights, facebook live, pens and sugars imposing slavery, pregnant persons, destruction of sports records, pride from the lack of freedom, the last possible relationship. Tic-toc, tic-toc, tic-toc.

The guilty ones?” – you will ask.

Everyone who has ever renounced themselves.


Yes, it’s true. They are not murderers. They cannot kill the world as an outer power. They are suicides. They weaken it through destroying themselves. They take the knives, the daggers, the axes, the guns. They stab dignity, bomb nature, smother dreams. Mindless, fierce, merciless. Toothless predators, determined to end their last victim for a few additional seconds of empty existence. But their strongest cruelty they keep for themselves. They attack themselves with their bare hands. They claw their nails in their own souls and the wounds appear on the face of god.

The gaze of the world is dim but it pierces the future. Its breath is a wheeze, but in it one can hear the melody of freedom. Its shivering is disturbing the standstill and flows inspiration into the hearts of the warriors.

No, the body in my arms is not a corpse. It is still breathing. And it will keep breathing. Because only through continuing its agony, it will save its parasites, its children, its brothers, its essence. The people. And it will be so until the last second of hope.

I will fight for this world. I will transfuse my blood to it, I will share my breath with it, I will transform my energy into life. I will be stronger, more decisive, and more uncompromising. I will give more than what I have in order to get everything. And the world will stand again, more powerful than ever.

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