the moon glistened
on your eyes. .
a glow appeared
on your hand
when we touched

I looked into
your sparkling eyes.
they waved
like the moon
on the river.

our hands held
in front of
the moon.
the night darkened
and stars brighten.

On the count of three, my journey begins
Through soft silence touching my bare feet
Three: Too much noise in my rucksack to carry
malignant, cancerous, deceiving on the contrary
Swallowed by silence and my rucksack is free
pure!
**** that constant pain I had to endure!
Two: My heavy eyes search for an end
at the far end of the sea.
My eyes fallible and fed with grandiosity.
The sea sniggers.
A sudden closure.
One: The journy pulls me through like magnet.
Not that I feel ready.
Not that I feel.
Not that I think.
Not for a moment of certainty I move or blink...