It's like I'm overtaking the slow-moving trucks that show aging, carry heavy loads, write advice on the back.
I am overtaking a very expensive jeep of the latest model, representing arrogance and pride, dazzling with its splendor and speed.
I overtake the horse-drawn carriage living in the past, which accelerates as it whips the animal that attracts it, and ignores technology.
I'm overtaking the children, whose fear I see in their eyes, who throw stones at the cars in their hands with all their fury, who never hit them, who race with the cars that go.
I'm overtaking the trucks that collect the world, do not allow overtaking, race fast passenger cars in the leader mode of the roads, and say, "Isn't there more speed?"
I overtake the cyclist who believes that there are no obstacles, rides a race or ordinary bicycle, and walks on his path without looking at anyone.
I overtake the engine that defies death, looks extraordinary, frightens with the thunder of lightning with its sound, and exhibits youth.
I never see anyone walking on the long road. Maybe an ant, or a bee on the ground, or an insect whose name I don't know is walking, and I overtake them.
Whatever I overtake, I don't see anyone. I don't have time to see and look and comment. What would it be worth if I knew him, found fault, or praised him? Neither I nor he is in his car, we will not listen to this, we will say we know what we know. We will race to spend life on those roads. The one who overtakes. But one day, those cars will stop in front of an oil office. There will be neither oil, nor will he be able to fill his car no matter how much money he pays. Deep brake marks and graves beyond. We will no longer be able to overtake.
Death is the name of the target on the way to the world. The faster you go, the closer you get to death. That's why those who speed as if it's a rally are kind of committing suicide, I guess. Who can defy death? The issue is that this short period of time; It is a pleasant journey that sees when you look at it, shares it with those who stop at one place on the road, adds the main humor by eating and drinking together, accepts the advice of what is told, saying goodbye as if it was the last time by taking neither an address nor a phone call, and never being adopted.
However, we think it is ingenuity to set out and reach the destination as soon as possible and overtake by speeding. We do not enjoy the journey-life. Blessed be the one who turns his journey into peace.
Let me write a little memoir. Poetry will be with me for the rest of my life. This started when I was very young. Actually, I was going to poetry events even when I was still in swaddling clothes. My mother used to leave me with her friends and read poetry. I remember drinking my juice and listening to my mother with admiration while my mother read poetry at the events.
All the little children played either with their friends in the street or with their siblings. I didn't have a brother, nor a friend to play with. When I cried and asked my mother why I didn't have a brother, my mother always said your brothers poems. Even though I had siblings and friends afterwards, poetry became my brother.
I started primary school, when I learned to read and write, I wrote my first acrostic poem. With the mind of a child! I went to my mother and said, "Look mom, you have a grandchild." He still laughs when he remembers my mother. So, poetry has taken a big place in my life. I used to play "rhyme puzzle" when I had no friends to play with. My mother would join me most of the time. We still play this game with my mother in a different way. Together we rhyme his poems.
We used to go to poetry events every weekend before corona, how do you stand when my friends hear it? Aren't you bored? They reacted like this. I was very upset when they thought like this because a person does not stand up to his brother, he stays with him for life.
