A Chapter

Jumping on the colored carpet pieces

picking minced meat, smelling it

it’s fresh, reminded of the soul

so beat, so lost, forgotten name.

/

Chapter read with thought evading

paragraphs and lines alluding

to the utopia that cannot be

but lives alive on the torn and shaking

leaves of paper hammered on the wooden fence.

/

Travel begins with preparation for the worst

for when cold winds, with their frozen hunger

try to tell the tale of sand and sun so bright

that melts the solid ice on eyelashes on the face.

/

Cosmic puppeteer with the strings invisible,

transparent in the light and darkness,

only seen at certain moment

on the border in between

past and future, day and night.