Soccer
Human beings so fragile
As infants of their own existence.
Way longer ago
Fear was cold
Bad weather?
A reason to just fold
War meant no deal
Gods meant just power
Something one can’t control nor move
Something we keep searching for
But are plenty of. Yes.
Today? Purity, innocence
Fragility, inability.
Skills are mastery
But mastery, a feeling.
Like no one else could express
The shape of their own heart
That beats at the peace of a chess
Slow, like a mess, yes, but who never knows where to go next
A game created
Where no one could lie
And scams were to be avoided
Why is that? Because games are not meant to be played
But to reach people who need respect for their challenges
To have fun? No, to feel blessed about That challenge.
But that story is not like a mutable seed that we can always try to improve
Nor like innocent birds that can’t defeat but could eat.
It’s a story of people who honored their tribes
Cause those games once pleased their lives.
But today? Sedentary cravers.
Lazy people who feel no phase,
Who shut up a mouth with no reason, nor an ending phrase.
Cowards. They split day like a maze.
They cut their meat like crazy;
Without reason, without a chase.
Cause oh they feel so good
At places where it makes sense
Not for the reason, not for the smell
For the seek of feeling peace that we never had
Because they attempt to pursue something beyond their own
Grooves meaning nothing
Cause they sound is just as cool
As dogs diving deep in a pool
where they can’t survive underneath
Something so null
Peace feeling noisy
Turtles feeling drowned
Trying to get something as “essential” as pure rice
But nothing like their fat faces, and their flat feet
That looks like a self pride of their ignorance,
Of big heads and small hats
Unmatched sizes that looks like an offense
To someone who just wanted to accept
The fact that we are who we are
And in the end, we can’t be different, we can’t be better
In a way that respect is not greater than our own matter.
