walking

I have a guitar, but I don’t know how to play it, I keep writing the lyrics that I’d love to sing strumming it. I know sometimes I’m being intrusive even in my own thoughts........but I eventually realize that I’m walking alone in the boulevard.
As I move along the path, my shadows walk along and they wander away after a while, every thing leaves and I’m lost, and then I dream alone in the boulevard.
Then there are my incomprehension, my incombustible dreams and my inconspicuous being, my digressing mind and its incoherent thoughts........and I love alone in the boulevard.
Tired of questioning and questions, I let the answers wander away......... but I smell a beautiful perfume and a song finds its way into my head, and stays there, and makes me fearless...........and I sing alone in the boulevard.
Incorporeal to the world, I lie free under the open star studded sky............which belongs to me. Nothing means the same to me anymore, nothing means anything to me anymore. In that heaven I find all the colours, the beautiful songs, all the perfumes........and I’m born again in the boulevard.