A view from the cause,
alters the landscape in you
I surrender to the earth, the roots.
Purifying the leaves.
I tell myself, this was not me, my music.
Still my skin has the tattoos of pandemic deafness.
I am breathing through the lips.
My attachment to death is a private affair
my voice lies in a lake.
The butterfly in a womb.
The psalms under the rocks.
Is it ending of death or death of ending?
I go beyond the brink, drop the stone in water.
When the moon touches my eyes,
like a kiss I start sharing the menu of night.
The rimless thoughts are hovering like small birds.
I listen to their flappings.
Can we live without bargaining?
Do you know the price?