KingOfTheLabyrinth

In the silence of sundown
I do not know how not to quiver,
like leaves that cannot withstand the wind,
I cannot settle.

Stillness is death,
not moving is diffusing.

Like this, directions are pointless but unavoidable
as I escape from the void towards the void.
I have never known that home does not mean disapparition,
but I would, if I could, like to know better.

At the end of the day,
the sunrays leave the last clouds, and
I am still a storm that does not know
a way to dissolve into a blue sky.