Four Minutes
poetic scribble by Bob Axell 2008


This is a project, this is just. I do what I do, and I know that I write best. So I try to stay true and develop my skills, thus, this is filled with movement, we grove but nevr refill. Party all night, at the mercy of moonlight. We swim in dark waters enveloped myt fear and fright. It's cold like ice, it stings us like a thousand knifes, but we love the adventure, and we scream in delight. As our toes nearly froze, as we ran up and inside, and quickly put on our clothes while the dawn swept us up in light. The fire was almost over, the coals burning down, but it doesn't really matter since the forset is around. A forrest filled with trees, trees that we chop down. And then the forest leaves, and we ask what do we do now? It seems there is no other option, than to go where there is wood, so we follow it and feed the fire, because fire does us good.

Then one day we burn the house down, it was all a dreadful mistake! And when we ran out in feverish fear we were victims of a mild earthquake. Thus the house dove down into a ravine by our side, and the trees they caught fire and we could not do other than stand beside. And warm our frozen hands as the ashes ate our home. Then there we were, without a house, without a fire, without wood, all alone, in the midle of our grim destiny. But a speck of people are blessed with heat, we are the horizon, we are that star that you see, that is so much brighter than we all believe. That is so much bigger, that is such a great a mas, and even though it looks like just a grain of dust, it swallows so much SO MUCH gas! That it us.