I am the only eyewitness of my life.
I saw it more than once from the side, from above, but never from below.
It's been always different:
Sweet as honey.
Intoxicating like kisses.
Salty as a wave in the Bay of Biscay.
Bitter as wormwood on sandy hills.
Warm, resilient, precious
and beloved.
I carried it out, wrapped in a blanket, from a dream
where everyone, who knew me before in this world, died.
I leaned over my body after the fight, touched my forehead, eyes and whispered:
"Wake up. The entire world is within you. You are the God."
And then I was told that there was nothing like that.
Something just happened, some incompatibility, a reaction to a simple procedure.
Just drink a sleeping pill, forget about everything.
You will be discharged from the hospital tomorrow.
You'll be healthy and strong again.
I might forget everything. I only need to press the "delete" key.
Next year the poppy will bloom in the field.
And this year Brussels sprouts and cornflowers are in full bloom.
But I'll never forget.
I'm able to accommodate all my journeys through walls,
tunnels and black holes.
Losing your body is not scary.
The dead never feel pane.
It's scary not to remember anything happened before.