Die Lyn | Vir Oktober

Die Lyn | Vir Oktober

English translation at the bottom.
As jy klaar soveel stukke van jouself vir ander gegee het,wat maak jy wanneer jy nie weet wie vir jouself oorbly nie?
Want as jy niks oor het nie, wie is jy dan nou eintlik?

Met verswakte gereedskap wat skaars met momentum kan by bly, bevind ek myself meer in die verlëe verlange na die verfynde details.

Die hare op my arms staan op, gereed vir ‘n reaksie. Oë wat gereeld die landskap deurloer, met gedagtes wat dwael na verskeie scenarios.

Iewers, het ek myself verloor,
en ek weet nie hoelank terug dit was nie.
Met geen ideë waar(om) te begin kyk nie.

Soos als maar van begin af ‘n avontuur van ‘n raaiskoot was op ‘n geluks bed (om enigsins te kan bestaan), kan ek nie help om bietjie lusteloos te voel diep diep binne My met ‘n vervreemde swaar gewig van hartseer, smart en teleurstelling nie.

Dis vreemd om met mense oor een te kom, maar tog vreeslik lekker om met hulle te kan gesels oor alles. Want soos die storie homself ontrafel, skep dit ‘n ander verhaal van verbintenis.
Sodra die stilte bedaar en hul oë besluit om weer daaikant toe te kyk,
Verdwyn ek wel.

Hoekom kan ek soms nie te werke gaan met enige iets nie,waar ander kere ek nie kan ophou en nog met minder slaap kan klaar kom.
Meeste tyd soms vrolik en vroulik, waar elders net. daar. om goed gedoen te kry.

Tog waaksaam met lewe, verbloem en gekleed met waarde en dit van wat saakmaak en mooi is;skryf ek hier met ‘n swaar knop in my hart die vraag, wat is die verskil tussen verskonings, drome en verantwoordelikhede?

RJ

6/11/2020 – Die Lyn | Vir Oktober

Nou lees dit weer, en verander ‘ek’ met ‘ ons’

English version to follow. This one was in Afrikaans.

When you have already given so many pieces of yourself to others,
What are you doing when you don’t know who is left for yourself?
Because if you have nothing left, who are you actually?

With weakened tools that can barely stay with momentum, I find myself more in the longing for the refined details.

The hair on my arms are standing up, ready for a reaction. Eyes that regularly pass through the landscape, with thoughts that drift towards various scenarios.

Somewhere, I lost myself,
And I don’t know how long ago that was.
With no idea where (to) start looking.

Like all but from the beginning an this adventure of a lucky try which happened on a happy bed (to exist at all), I can’t help feeling a little lustless deep deep inside Me with an alienated heavy weight of sadness, sorrow and disappointment.

It’s weird to get along with people, even nicer to be able to talk to them about almost everything. Because as the story unravels itself, it creates a different commitment towards connection.
As soon as the silence surface and their eyes decide to look the other way,
I disappear.

Why can’t I gets to the doings of things at times, where other moments I can’t stop not working and finish with less sleep throughout the day. Most time spent sometimes cheerful and feminine, where elsewhere I’m only. there. to get stuff done.

Yet alert with life, disguised and clothed with value and that of what matters and classified beauty;

I write here with a heavy lump in my heart the question, what is the difference between excuses, dreams and responsibilities?

RJ

6/11/2020-The Line | For October

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