Morituri te salutant

This morning I left my house with itchy feet and a mind as light as air.

Rushing down the frosted streets, I soon felt a cold breath in my neck catching up with me and my thoughts. On my heels: myself - in the guise of a vulture not yet fully fledged.

"Run!", it crowed. "Run - as fast as you can. Until your heart leaps out of its cage so you can catch it, dissect it. So you can hold it in your hands and examine it, and look for the holes and the voids."

"Scream!", it squealed. "Scream - as loud as you can. Until your lungs jump out of your chest and your voice hits the end of the world to come back like a boomerang that cleaves your heart in two. As sometimes one heart is not enough and you need two to beat against the trials of the past."

But I stood still and swallowed my voice.

Sometimes one heart is not enough but two are too many - just as sometimes the world is too big a place but yet too small.

And what's the use of a heart if you need to split it in two for it to be great-hearted enough to revoke the phantoms of history?

What's the use of a voice when you need to send it around the world for your heart to listen?

I shook my head and resumed my walk but ever since a shadow of an unfeathered vulture has been flitting about somewhere near me.

"It disturbs me no more to find men base, unjust, or selfish than to see apes mischievous, wolves savage, or the vulture ravenous." ~ Jean-Paul Sartre