Monday, October 30, 2017
only a poem, maybe
nothing will save me
nothing has changed,
my love busy with herself,
a game she knows
and feeds, far out
within the protection
of her rules, a balloon
of pureness in her
journey from death to death
me better to be alone,
walk through the fog,
find food and scents
and colours to lead
out of sadness, a
travel in beauty, in
a space beyond pain,
and always the sea
taking me out and out
as much as inside
with this limitless horizon
fusion of longing and freedom
and me, this finally too,
beyond the gate,
the slow release
of self.
now, now, i found
a present to send
to this fenced heart
where mine is
and is and is
and out of bonds.
welcome fog, your
grace and veils.
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