Infinite stairs of waiting
The more I wait, the more I feel trapped in the dungeon of anguish.
The more I climbed the stairs, the more I tried to ascend,
the more it seemed I was descending downward with no result.
All of this made me frustrated
because I could not reach my goal.
In my stillness I found myself,
But at the same time, I lost a part of me.
It was as if everything I had learned
I had lost and forgotten,
and everything I did not know
I had unconsciously acquired.
Confused and bewildered in a place of nowhere
I strived to believe in my dreams but all I could do was fall from the stairs
It was a game of illusion and reality.
I had ceased to discern what seemed deception from what was truth.
Both had blended together.
It was as if there were no longer any meaning,
and no longer any need to possess the domain of wisdom and knowledge.
Everything had shattered into the abyss of ignorance and madness.
And I proceeded on a thin thread between creation and destruction.
My perplexities and hopes echoed as if they resounded through enigmatic structures, without meaning and expectations.
Spirits that I could not discern, that I could not distinguish, whispered to me encouragements to pursue. But every time I fell and plunged into another flight of stairs, they laughed, almost as if to make fun of me — and to mock my inexperience and incompetence.
In solitude I found myself lost, and there I languished like a creature from other worlds, indulging in my languor and melancholy; I was certain that I was towards myself and my image no longer had reflections in any mirror. The staircase was truly infinite like a steep ascent without end; there was neither a beginning nor an end, everything was an infinite perpetuity of distress and anguish.
Infinite stairs of waiting were my dwelling for eternity, and there I had to… to… I didn’t know anymore.
Elisabetta
