.
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
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