walk hand in hand
to the end of land
until they drown in the sea
the nightingale does not think
she is somebody else,
she doesnt flee herself,
she sings and calls
the fox knows no desire,
he stretches in the sun
or goes hunting,
he doesn't know his colour.
only man needs a name
to call himself by,
never sees who he is,
questions his being
when he reaches out,
he may stumble, fall.
he is used to take
and thinks he rules
well knowing, he does not.
his heart may be kind,
his mind in misery.
entangled in the web
of fate and dreams.
there is no way
but to try forever,
to walk each moment
like a newborn child.
balance is a mystery,
and the earth turms
and turns and turns.
joy and pain
walk hand in hand
to the end of land
until they drown in the sea
ps: one can try other ways...
paths, hope, courage
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