Where is my laddie? As reason,
Time, unreasonable, runs amok,
Precious, stone frost on the rose,
And sun travels yoked with moon,
Somes, climbing into skies broke
With light and smoke and hopes,
Dashed on earthly tides quaking,
My heat waits to be aired, beaten,
My soul, thirsts for carnate touch,
In of outter reaches of openesses
My breath suffocates in rainy sun,
All this life to know is but waiting,
The flowering of my flower wanes.