Flying Rivers
Taken care of
I am
By my lonely soul.
History has written itself
With its dirty ink
Throughout my body
And made it rot.
I see my harbor
From a great distance;
In the translucent water
That reflects
My rotten spirit
For not being able to reflect
This dead body of mine
I do not see myself.
Relentless is my struggle.
No one ever asked me
If the sailing amused
My reluctant mind.
It does not.
I am not for the waters.
Waves now make me nauseated.
I beg that you leave me
Cast away
In the dark sand
Of this unknown beach.
Leave my thoughts alone
For myself
Or the devil
To take care of.
Leave my dream of this ancient ocean
Rest mumbling watery words
As lost as the foam
That now I have become.
For foam I am
And no body must I have
Just to lick the unknown sand
Shall I desire.
For foam and ashes
Still to burst out of this shore
As soon as my own skin
Floats to me
My sanity will I recover.
Waiting for you to leave
And hope that I
Alone will crave
To sanity again.
To my own self.
My ocean is waterless,
No international part of me
Shall be conquered,
Because no ship shall sail
In the dark foam
That my body has become.
Thus the wind
May take me,
As the water
I no longer trust.
As long as foam I am
Shifting across the earths is needed
In order to find
The new elements
For this yet to come
Body of mine.
Will I find roots?
Silent was the wind
To my inquiry.
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