1,2,3, Stella!

1,2,3, star! You moved! Now back to the starting point!
Laughter and voices from times past, echo in, charged and luminous. Benches heavy with thoughts, with sighs. Broken cages and chains.
Solitudes realised and detachments sought to be something diffe rent, something else. I can’t exist as you want me to, I can’t walk your steps with my shoes, I can’t write the script you dictate.
You cannot bind me to a perverse chessboard to make your moves making me stray and transparent. I will break the shell and challenge the emptiness inside me and out, I will appease this hunger for love, building a stone road from a thousand blocks, taking you far away from you , away from me for how I still live from you.
And I will breathe from jasmines the tyrant song, in waves of sea and wonder to become another me, suspended from you, to pursue destinies, to enchant happiness.
1,2,3, star! I will move tracing new steps, mine, I will be seen, watched, judged. I will be forced to the starting point.
I will lose the game, I know, but I will never be able to say, once I have stopped, that I have not lived!