She cries when you lie so helplessly on the bed
small and huddled
a buch of life threads
dreaming a blank dream while smiling, astute expression on his face
things that he knows and will vanish very soon,
rubbed out and removed.
They are one, of course,
he just still doesn't know it.
He floats in her stars and her dense magic.
She would love to see them in the same huge empty room,
all the dead ones and alive ones,
the ones who still aren't born but they will be.
The whole family tree
gathered around one table
in a huge empty room.
There would be candles and jars of wine,
dried grapes, honey and figs for the small people.
She would touch the faces of her children's children.
She would know as she always does.
Skirts and leaves rustle on the ground,
the autumn is in the town.
There is fire in the corner,
they all gather around.
It is the melting part of us
that peels off like an onion layer,
what you find inside
is simply a beginning of a story.
She cries when you lie so helplessly on the bed
small and huddled
a buch of life threads
dreaming a blank dream smiling,
astute expression on his face
things that he knows and will vanish very soon,
rubbed out and removed.
From the ground.
No comments:
Post a Comment