Thursday, May 8, 2014

Flow




These days don’t disappear like bubbles.
Today, again, I’m hoping for a hint of presence on the other side of the door.

Even though the words of the yesterday that pretended to be tomorrow finally disappeared,
What I can do to keep hold over everything of yours is the only thing I’m thinking about.

Your voice overflows through this parched room.
As though searching for water, I’m calling for you.

Waiting for a favorable wind, I sharpen my ears.
As though searching for water, I’m calling for you.

These days don’t disappear like bubbles.
Today, again, I’m hoping for a hint of presence on the other side of the night.

Even though I know full well that a tomorrow the same as yesterday won’t come,
What I can do to keep hold over everything of yours is the only thing I’m thinking about.

Your voice overflows through this parched room.
As though searching for water, I’m calling for you.

Waiting for a favorable wind, I sharpen my ears.
As though searching for water, I’m calling for you.

At this point, I step back, clicking my heels.
As though searching for water, I’m calling for you.