How volatile you are

Did you see the life that fled by
the wind being wiped away
it was you
in a summer dust
each part is missing me in the pores of sweat
I breathe your heart out like a fire
for a dream so true
It was me who was the dream that slowly disappeared
out in the day that blew the night away
which never charmed
when my last request of a near thirst calls out
I’m lost in missing you yet.

Sunday city

 

Advertisements

Found in the echo of the empty as a grief of its togetherness

 

It started like a feathers flight
the tickling sensation to touch a consciousness long before the idea developed
in an infant’s rest in the arms of the universe is a shadow of the deep sorrow of the loss
that’s where the bubble burst
a child was abandoned

as one of many

in an echo of a broken symbiosis someone fell
into a void that’s never been described in words
how could anyone describe the thin air of something lost before it went visible
a void that playfully accompanies the dancing life of a feather
as an eternal shadow in the sun
one distance from wanting to search for the outside mental functions’ understanding
just that stubborn mind which is its own intelligence
can speak without words and show the way.

IMG_0102