A perfect solution was never found.
The question remained unanswered beyond the skin.
Stripped to the bone,
afraid of future,
you cannot invite the ending
and present will not continue indefinetly.
Unabated, over and over again,
you hit the trail to drink the sun.
Pain and sorrow, hurts and grief,
is prescribed fear of unknown.
In the dark tunnel,
your numb limbs search for an explanation.
The dialogues with stones do not bring comparison.
You should remember your name.
The lips will measure the time.
Movement of fear begging
for unbuckling the dark
was like a calculated risk
to alalyze the wolf’s intentions.
They are hovering like inhuman crimes.
A potent hunger walks out of the kitchen,
gouges out the peacock’s eyes.
Now rains will not come.
