“ (…)They mutter in shock. And their remedies - dry as primroses of a past, lay before them - sunk in their mud. A sharp time and yet a seductive tale. God! They just abhor it!”
I’ve missed the time that I had stopped
In a single minute of need
I let the liberty of silence speak
Which man would not want to
Save this kind of freedom
To save this right to weep - to let them lead?
A quiet moment
That was my anchor truth
My observation in my own lived youth
An ending of a sacrifice
Of one’s own happiness devised
This! Oh, this!
Was my way in that moment
And this is next to me so dormant
Avenging just a single blink
Sometimes in the dark - it there will sink
I met you - flashing; this, is my passing!
Going through the valley near
Believe me, friend! My dear!
Time is not my helper - never
It is my enemy - so ever!
She was the light spot in the middle
A happiness for the disgraced
The center of inertia
The harvest fruit of faith
A bit of a relief in a distress
The kind of order in a mess
A precious treasure - to confess
But she loved much all this madness
For the madnesses annoyances
Delirium - an existing tense
And a craving for a little sense
Their sunken echoes.
Their sensible reverberation.
An anxious sanction.
A suppressed anguish.
The rigid ice of raging waters.