.

The house has never been so awake 

only to sleep

for a brief hour

.

.

.

The eyes by the gate

planted a sunflower in the garden

.

.

The cold days

The rain pouring down

a thunder created by You?

.

.

The hot days

Rays of sun

a flowers bed

.

.

The black wood

visited by the hour

smoke and fire

.

.

.

The birds waited until the last

to sit on the rooftop

wanting to come back

.

.

next time. 

.

.

Next time, see you next time

.

.

.

.

A bell rings

.

.

.

.

.

You made it

Your sweat and will made wonders

investigating the immersion of being detached 

attached 

changing

.

.

.

Whilst your hands where working

by your feet

A little friend

passed you by

.

.

.

.

Your hands are so soft

and your ever so silent voice

is so strong

.

.

Your gentle ways of waking up

Your wants of slowing down

.

.

The bodies

.

Rolling
Multiplying

.

.

.

.

The warm bodies of You

.

.

.

.

.

.

To mortality, the mortality of us – a will of pain and please.

.

Be unnamed with many names, be a pioneer and set stones. Always curious. Colour blue. There, seen and unseen, the night-sky with its asteroids. The hope You bring, as we breathe life into it.

. 

The fruits you carried with grace and wisdom, the fermented fruits we drank. 
The creatures that flow through us, creating homes within. The inner child within us, the child you brought us with. 

.

Only your skin could be ever so present and loving: tempress, spread like your fire, connect through muscles and bones with me. Investigating old and new encounters with space, as an intern in life. Living in. 

.

The invitation to your face, my face

Our Faces

.

.

.

Remember

to put your suitcase on the bed.

.

.

and don’t forget the oats

.

.

.

.

. TIMER