All the skies are stern and silent since the evening colours died.

Behind my eyes, stars are falling through the emptiness inside.

Yet the dark is slowly shifting where the sightless night bird flew,

and I hear time’s gentle heartbeat as I taste the dew.


The forest now wears white and grey, the fields are fast asleep.

I gaze through frozen floods onto the flowers in the deep.

Far above, white clouds are blazing as they drift through brighter blue,

and I dream of thaw and thunder. Soon it starts anew.

Soon it starts anew.


Every step is so much lighter in this mild, oblivious haze,

veiling shapes of joys and sorrows and a maze of many ways,

but they all lead back to being, so I shed the life I knew

and my gait grows young and eager - - - are you coming, too?

Are you coming, too?

Are you coming, too?

(October 11th, 2011. For Ilse.)