.. feast days lost,
walk away tired as moons,
look in my footsteps footsteps cries off
already crying that the sky
remove from my past ..
so it will be harder, harder
my back.
white sails flutter in the air,
write his name on clouds read
but the wind knocks down and remove my sails.
delay by moving too slowly on the path,
has already passed the junction, is lost,
deleted.
but the sky now imitates my cries do
merely to look, try to copy.
that is my first cry, my
the original.
was built at the junction known forms,
roads well-groomed, well-lit
.
the entrance was safe,
and his invitation,
was much debate .. ..
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