On the ground -
The tears of the wind
Dissolve above the ripening tombs
Like some Babillonian gardens
Staring at an invisible sin.

In the sky-
Atrophied and overcried wings,
Try to deny
The wrongful calling of yesterday
At least three times ;
All thirsty of dreaming,
All hungry of bonding,
And crossing the line
into forbidden orchards.

The only proof for the dawn
Is in the horizon.



Suspended sincerities
Prospects devoid of mobility.
Feeling just like a glass iconographer
Deprived of any vision
Indulging myself in this mourning flux
inside of me
I am rubbing incence down to powder
In a smoky hourglass
Forgotten by some betrayed bride-to-be.
On the other side of endlessness
Landmarkfree sincerities…
Turned down by time,
Begging for love,
Come back for me.