A new sun rose empty, alone. a blue sky window was cracked in between. A wind without sails pretended to be, and the ocean's table touched sky by its seam.
i. New Sun Who am I? Who is this me, this thing of mine, to whom I'm entertwined? I'm sure someday, it will just go away. What is “be”? This just being in front of me between the “to be” and me? I guess I'll know if it decides to show. Where is “here”? Where is this place I feel so near - that makes it more unclear? There is no way, I could (actually) say.
New sunlight climbs the world, in its wake great firebirds. New sunlight whips the seas, surface gold, and submarine. New sunlight burns the sky, and all is born in my eyes.
Forests, springs, rivers and roads formed out of ashes, of grey and charcoal. Surely a painting, but an amputee, amputated by the dimensions three.
Each day I watch new sun go down, the land bereave its golden crown, but the world seems undying. Where is this world of re-dying light, this space where endings escape the night? Is it there, where I always return? In search of a meaning, not finding my own, yet absolving all need there is to atone. I talk to myself because there's no God, my reason and want always ten feet apart.
------------------ Who are you? Some different kind of being spewed, inside the false and true - who'll just die, without knowning why. (And) are you real? Or simply made to make me feel like I'm the “one” in here? You might be, simply all I see. (or) Maybe your just me, trapped inside my mystery where I can't disagree - I think that's true, I been here before...?
interlude.
A new sun rose, empty, alone, a blue sky window was cracked in between A wind without sails, pretended to be, and the ocean's table touched sky by its seam. But will the sky watch over me?Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
