painted walls
I ended up in this life—I have no idea how—
and along the way, I realized that the room—vast as it was—
had neither doors nor windows. "Had none" is an understatement, for they *were* there,
only behind the windows and doors lay painted walls—
depicting various scenes, various times of day, various faces.
And I swear, I’ve tried so many things in my life;
perhaps one day, a wall will fall,
letting me see the unseen, hear the unheard,
see, feel, hear, and taste the untasted.
But until then,
I must keep opening doors and windows,
because one never knows
what lies behind them.
Copyright © Costel Macovei | Year Posted 2026
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