the roads, a silent roar,
motionless to the point of no return,
homeless, to the return of the day.
the roads, a liminal space,
ceaseless to the destination of choice,
yieldless after a choice of prisonment.

safe, for a season of safe journeys;
mercies, the tender chants of quiet prayers;
grace has her season in the living world.
there are always words we cannot hear ever again.
When the speakers are gone.


silent foams, gravitating from below,
underneath, flowing into forms, bubbly repetition,
the roads, now slippery, fading windscreens, the rain that didn't fall...until dawn.
the dew of sacrifice.
a velvet sky cast over the horizon.
separates, me, and, you.
intangible tangibles.
leaving me with an uchronia:
but both have their lightnings and thunder.

in spite of love,
faultless to a flaw,
exergue throws us into a chronology of existence.
veiling the anterior
revealing the exterior
and hastening an immediate reaction.
a motive that haunts us, so long a time.
in spite of love, we hardly show that love.
how sad.
how very sad.

a tender hand to stroke our oily hair,
perhaps,
is all we need, to let the tears flow,
in a shelter, opened.
leaning on a sprouting flower, lifting us and allowing us to fall
a dandelion next, to spread us far into the wide field,
of yellow and green, spots of red, stopping us in a while, that we may continue our flight.

brave souls, just tiny wicks, to light a room of flaming existence,
bright, fleeting,
enough to engulf, burning, everyone around us, immediately,
almost reaching out, almost covering us,
in flames of Daniel,
to find hands to hold us,
near bushes that burn ceaselessly;
protect us, from nightmares,

of dogs, biting limbs, torso,
paralysed, blind.
after long sprints, reaching nowhere but a forest,
fallen, and they bite, without the pain, teeth sunk deep.
all fours, waiting, patiently, to open our eyes again,
to bite back, ten times more hard, in reality.

forever is a long time.
reality is always the immediate.
peace is a chaotic stranglehold on us.
a resistance to turbulence.
no journey has no bumps.
tripping and standing.
reveal what must be shown.
the centering comes later. always later.
know both. both and none of the double.
no more simple cliches.
always seasons, to fluctuate.
gone in 60 seconds.
truimphant in disappearing.
not immortality,
mortality, teaches all of us.
growing patience.
refreshing dew, dew...flooded with rain, instead.
the earth is always washed dry.
to start anew, old.
to accept more than acceptance. cruelty.
overcoming, unbecoming, becoming.
the saying and not the said.
in relation to the said.
more than enough, is said. always too much.

took an hour.
must come to an end.
hope not.
but,
being nearer than near,
hold hands, with whom you cannot hold hands with.
your neighbour,
your immediate neighbour; whom you love, as you love yourself.

rain pours.

sun shines,
when we wake.
new morn.
old refreshed.

to whom I can no longer talk to verbally.