# Life On A Whim I pack my bags when the wind whispers, leave behind the comfortable chair, the cup of tea growing cold on the sill. The world is too wide to stay put. Some call it restlessness— that itch beneath the skin, that hunger for the next street, the next stranger's face, the next sky that hasn't learned my name. I've lived in a dozen towns whose names I can barely recall, loved people I promised forever to, kept none of those promises. Not from cruelty, but from the simple truth: I was never meant to root. The map unfolds like a life unlived, each fold a possibility, each blank space a room I might sleep in, a song I might hear in a café, a love that might last until morning. Some days I wake and wonder if this is freedom or just fear running under a prettier name. But the question dissolves when the train begins to move, when the horizon bends toward me again, when I am nobody's burden and nothing is expected but my leaving. So I live on a whim— not the whim of a fool, but the whim of someone who knows the world is too brief to spend it all in one place, too strange to live by rules, too alive to ever truly settle down.

(Dreams die on the whims of others...)

There is only one way into the darkness of infinity—
through drowning in regret with the ribbon of eternity—
a disgrace of joy...

I rush home again, and the light darkness of everyday life,
knitted from the sheets of dead water,
fills my eyes with the whirlwind of a world of despair over my head,
and the last sentence condemns everyone to life before life...

When the ruler of heaven rolls the dice, and the dawn passes,
and she never returns she is eternal...
He looks at people from heights but doesn't understand... Why?

They are born with a love of faith and contempt for fate,
with humility to shame and a blessing for curses,
with a hatred of lovemaking and faith in better yesterdays,
and mercy for fireflies, those poor saints, those fairies of today, forgotten...

She has flowers in her hands, tips for thieves, the queen of our dreams,
our littleness laughs when she falls asleep alone in the evening and dreams of dreaming,
and the poisonous seeds fall into resentment, become trees.

Then the water hides knowledge and roots with the giants of the world,
exactly as required (by a higher power) and at night the flame goes out
like life on a whim...