I had struggle to fix

the tree a ground

and water

it’s dying roots.

It chose my fleeing heart’s hand

that stood blinking

from afar.

Sometimes I called into it

by spearing my night into its day

so it will know the role of the sun

when the softness is not just to the ground.

To no success only if it’s pain

loss and a tear to remind me of my mockers giggles.

Let time happen and deafen the sound of my voice

while earth pass my will into another.

When will is all lost in a smile

and fate prevails with a smithing fear,

let the bells of salutations uproar

it’s face from the shadows behind me.

I want to hear freedom moaning

and bleeding in the bed on my rooftop – let it leaves wave my goodbyes

so I know what trunks it fooled to stand here.




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