My cat goes
to hunt for mice,
catches them,
plays with them.
I don't know
if he kills them
or if they die
by accident.
I have been in love
and i cared
but now it feels
like a black hole.
Where we shared
fluid days
and presence
in roads and fields
Where we went
through joy and pain
meeting our essence:
Now i see nobody
not even me,
Black holes sucking energy,
unkwown to each other,
Terra Icognita
Which will remain white
on the map of life
and a torture burnt
into the memory of time.
The wind blows ashes
and senseless fights
across this universe,
Better to stay silent,
To see the birds coming
with song in this spring
and the dead bushes
greening with hope
And maybe to smoke,
have a wodka lemon,
to listen to death
coming nearer
Together with the streams
and small rivers gurgling
along with hypnotic sound.
All in all loneliness.
Life must be an accident,
my cat said so:
just the fun of hunting.
Does he lie?
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