Nedim Hadzikadunic

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[aneuprisma]

Crimson Light

Long above me hovers and moans, this crimson monster, with a glow which fills our spirit, now drinks it drained out of us while we touch under a fatal shine. That closed our view, hence at the edge of life. Rage for eternity, or accept the downfall of mortal melancholy. White noise imitates sadness in the misty memories. There those torches which savior didn’t set on fire stay frozen. In the story where fed giant goes to sleep under the cloaks of sky, do we still breathe? This daylight desolation may end to open the way to moon shadows in the forthcoming night. Our house is in ruins that we are getting back. Sweetheart, the only time to live satisfied is when we run for freedom. Will my heart break early in this battle? I’m not assured the guardian angel feeds the hungry scarlet before it satisfies on our souls. Someone hurt him, or he as well fell on his knees in his heart’s temple. You should know, your beloved ones won’t ever lose the only hope to look at you again. My lady, don’t wonder too far from my reach because I want to dream together with you of a paradise until the fall leaves become a scene to rise. We used to listen, what his fellow crowd talked. There was never an honest word. Confused with worry, I heard whispers as confession in the distance. That was just a daydream. Here in the spotlight, I understood you were singing a lullaby. It could’ve been a fantasy. This whirl in the turmoil, it splits my being into fragments. The cries after which we unified settle only to pay with suffering. Pain they can’t understand, and nobody here to finish the agony. Saving every breath while the linger into abyss comes. Only to tell, last one is coming. Lost to soothe up in the forever. If heavens spoke, we could learn better from them to unravel that our hero hides from the yellow bright. My dear, let your wings be. I choose my feather swing before you bleached out. We must hand out our lives as a sacrifice, so he ends the search for the inward light. Only then we can fly free. Into blue skies.

[aneuprisma]

Parts from upcoming “The Awakening”

Everything you are and could experience awake or asleep is already predefined construct. Even when you are dreaming you are constrained to it. When you are dreaming the construct is abstract and projects outwards like a light in the fog. There is an obstruction of that material frame you perceive, and everything suddenly has a deep meaning, a statement of the soul. Awareness of the infinite beyond. You can never reach it, but you could gaze upon it and control the construct that is your mind. Construct of any emotion is overruled by instinct. Even our actions are constrained by it. You are hooked in time. By your thoughts.  (Sentences from: The Awakening by Nedim Hadzikadunic 2021©)

[aneuprisma]

Phrasing Disregard

The pain you feel, is self elected. Because you can feel the emotion and being that you are insecure or afraid of losing yourself in the turmoil, or losing your wits. Chose now to accept someone's judgement of who I am, whether it is an insult or criticism. Choose to make an excuse for who I am.  It is a deceit I can choose to accept or throw it at some other face, so I can lie to myself that I am strong. Sins of yours are long gone. Am I the only one who can remember that gone day, when we were just a flame? Something stirs in us whatever we do. Wake up, before it is late. For one whole year I disrespected you, while sleeping and dreaming another phase. You can read, for all the times you need. I am never coming home, to the hollow. Pass down that common rotten fig you hold to anyone. She will start to talk and say to that someone you gave it, to take her home. To you, to the hollow. 

[aneuprisma]

Cygnus Zest Ardor

But I know. Under the surface of hope pressure rises. Never ending awareness of my task. I should break the ice, but I am having fears that underneath lays another undertow of constant density, filled with expectations of what I should be. I am caught there becoming someone you are disappointed with. Furthermore, I throw myself with every step in your blind spots. The only spaces of you I have ever known. Suffocating I release the grip of faith. That we were built to last. Wake me up in the ruins of our shelter, when the spring comes again. That day is going to be when you realize what you have to do. Without doubt, I said you are going to build a sacred wall. But maybe it will inundate the pandemonium of an endless dream. The secrets you kept concealed around me, will become a riddle to be solved before I slide to the cemetery you ornamented with scars, at the very beginning of my indulgence to you. I wish you saw me dancing with your ghost, haunting me for hiding the truth. That your breath almost unraveled my tangled mind. In there was a symphony always waiting to worship my veneration for your soul, striking conversation with anything I painted in the spotlight, where an epithelial mirror served me to express the honest sympathy. Up ahead in the distance of a corridor, gulf light surprised your face. I saw it coming, because I was waiting with all my being for this juncture, which gave me an excuse to collide with you giving the first jolt that sparked your eyes with a shine, looking directly into my soul where always rained, a rainbow appeared. In those puddles we would jump together laughing without umbrella completely wet. I left you cuddled up with my cloth vow that I would do what you have been dreaming of. But it would take some time. The time you gave me on Saturday. I was not prepared for such a long weekend day. It was a pretty good time to gather a crowd and a piano that has played an official melody of change echoing trough conversations among a hundred men but with myself behind the wheel. I drove in circles even though I promised I will be there to pick you up. No need to argue who will take the cure, and who will sing the song in the cemetery, where the riddle will stay ever long. 

[aneuprisma]

Dismal Concomitant

You can chase after the higher meaning of life and learn about it a lot, but there is no such essence. Sometimes you give your soul a meaning gazing the dark side of righteousness that is carved in a stone thrown into the lake of dreaded stillness. Gracious, but heavy light that wakes you every day greeting with mercy under your bare feet. Thinking if he dug himself a grave under his favorite tree, the discovered roots would smile upon him and take away all of his sadness. The fellow tried to understand unattainable by looking at his palms, lines of life appeared which he followed through never lands. You saw her and there stunned forgot everything. There is one more voyage to paper towns which you would describe repeatedly as if someone was paying attention. An endless murk that was created will never disperse, and will follow him wherever he was subsisting and trying to prevail.

[aneuprisma]

Indignation

Knowledge is sacred. Knowledge is forbidden. Ignorance is projected. Lack of intellect allows for abstractionism. Coincidences happen sometimes. Projecting amorally, by abstraction, by the collective intelligence of less intelligent individuals without a figurative charge of thought. What value does knowledge bring? Knowledge of ignorance of a collective function. The dimension is limited by individuals who listen to instincts without a large synergy.

[aneuprisma]

That thing

If you are upset about something coming from outside, out of your mind, the pain is not from that thing, but from your expectations or assessment of that thing. And you have the power to recall it at any moment.

[aneuprisma]

Short Introduction To Time

Can you understand life without time? Rhetorical it is. Life can only be understood backwards, but you have no other option than to live it forwards. The present you strive for being in is actually more than a 10th of an eye blink behind. Don't blink, then the tears will start falling out of your eyes. The realization is that lack of faith in our future makes letting go of things from the past hard. Still scars have a mysterious power reminding us that the past is real like this very moment. Past isn’t there where we thought we left it. Unfortunate is time ticking, hours passing by. Past casts a growing shadow in front of us, while the future shrinks. Does “it’s never late” make sense? Is it possible to not be late while changing our lives for what we think is better? The answers lay actually in that what we want to change. Your past is always your past. Even when you forget it, it remembers you. “I” have learned that you need to leave that place where you lived. Where your past days are buried deep. Leave them anyhow but slowly, leave them fast. Never look back and never think that the moment you remember is better, because it is dead. Years in the past feel secure, defeated, while the future is in a cloud, horrifying from a distance. “My” past is everything I failed to be.