Running like in a track,
Just looking forward ignoring what’s in the back.
Sometimes there is even a break for the wind,
But this track is different, it never end.
Our only break is when our breath is gone,
Just running to what we even don’t know.
Sit at some crowded place and gaze at the crowd,
You’ll observe not faces but masks of a clowns.
And look at the trees at the edge of the street,
You’ll observe not standing plants but a symbol of this life’s spirit.
Many masks will pass,
Some pass smoothly like a gas,
Some pass like they’re going to a war,
Some stand like an instruction held by a bar.
When some smash to each other without knowing,
One of them dropped what he was holding,
You see the other helping to pick it up,
You realize that at least there is love for us to hold up.
This little humanity that make you believe that you’re actually living,
Look up to the sky and you’ll realize that for such thing was birds been waving.
The chaos of the day ends and night takes over,
The time to be your real self leaving face of a poker.
And late at night, if you try to read the sky,
A novel will appear infront of your eyes.
A novel about a kingdom with many villages,
But without a castle or a rage.
Everything minding its own business,
While living socially and being in love with others.
The dawn broke, I woke up to take share of the morning,
I laughed at what I thought yesterday and kept running.

His name is Ahmed M. Adushe. He lives in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia. He is fond of reading and writing, mainly reading, specially reading Natures Book out in the field.
IG – adushe_aa


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1 thought on “Mask

  1. A breathless and fever-like work. Excellent, pervasive, and with considerable imaginative scope.

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