FLOW.
What twinkled
was silver of stars, and gold of moon
What cried out
was a quiet wish, and a cold night
In a momentary impulse
the joy of drowning
Imprisoned by freedom
fish wandering in water
Hollow whispers and
clumsy stratagems
In the order of chaos
fragments of truth
Whose voice is that?
That song is just one.
In the twilight
a sweet shadow
In the falling darkness
a sea of sound
Canned coffee and
milk tea
On wet lips
spreading blood
Tracing fingertips and
invisible drops
Swimming through silence
overflowing, flowing
The warmth that is there and
the warmth that should have been there
Such countless twinkles
are repeated
The white of night.