Fear grips a family of words.
You are going to where you do not want to go.
I remain worried about the unknown.
The inevitable was flowering on dead palms.
Would you exhume the past to find out,
what the divinity has buried along the panicles of croci?
I do not understand this war between glaciers and guns.
Can we drink together the elixir of death dripping from the snow peaks?
Sun was screaming from the unblooming trees.
