slow morning.
coffee.
at times looking through the window:
foggy a bit, autumn leaves giving color
under a grey sky. it looks cold
and it is cold.
not much light to be seen:
but it is there, down here diffuse,
above the clouds it will be different.
if i wouldn't know this,
i could not find the light of my soul.
if i wouldn't know this,
i couldn't find the light of your soul.
"You know how I feel."
no, I don't.
words.
words are clouds,
tumbling across space
like swarms of locusts.
they eat all what is alive.
but they cannot destroy all.
life is just going on,
and even the locusts must be happy:
there is always food for them.
a hot bath, another coffee,
and i will walk out:
out. walk.
silence.
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