You are not with yourself today.
Conversation was stopped,
from cloud to cloud.
Now you know
what you did not want to know.
No longer the pathless destiny,
comes near you,
you go towards the bushes
to collect the ash,
the burnt out remains of a theme,
a design, a horizon.
In memory of books,
which are not read by anyone now.
Pages lay wounded.
Black stones trying to hear
the sounds of dawn.
The tremors were increasing in the swampland.
The wolves were in howling rage.
A daring gift of death,
tormenting the spirit,
you watch through the twilight,
through the terror of betrayal.
Each tear drop sacrifices the eternity.