On my kitchen floor I stand still
A thought appears at a normal bandwidth
When I start mixing the fine flour with
Eggs, salt, beer & some oat milk
To make batter for the pancakes
While I tune-in to some old tracks
But I’m sure you can already sense that
It’s not about cooking golden brown pancakes
I’m simply shaking the manmade pain can
Without triggering the vapours escape my brain cells
It’s my way to ‘handle with care’ the fragile caged self
It’s to pencil the portrait of my shaded landscape
Pain & I know each other better than the pen-friends
We used to play hide & scream quite often back then
That led to fluctuating beat underneath the bare chest
There were times when we used to play the game of plain chess
The swift moves we framed on those black & white squared shapes
To win the battle through defence / attack in a split splash
Didn’t know I was battling against myself through those matches
The Pawn, Knight, Bishop, Rook, Queen & King were my own images
I realized it was never about winning, losing or those checkmates
The key was to keep myself in check with acceptance at a mindful pace
Coz I know, there will always be pain in one or the other way
But there will also be love in several forms in this Milky Way
By the way, I wasn’t cooking those pancakes for myself
I was flipping me to observe different dimensions in this heating process
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