On the True Nature of Sadness
I am dreaming again of a river we see the dazzle of rapids
closer to its light the sound of water on the cobbles
its voice rushes nearer to us calls us through gaps in the forest.
We come to our house by the river that opens its doors for us
we pass through its rooms down to the lawns by the water
we wade downstream submerge ourselves in its flow depart.
Then the cocoon that I wove for you unravels
into the breathing hours under the currents of stars
that burn so coldly the lights of silent catastrophe.
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