Time:
folded, masked,
heartless - a nonsense,
drifting masks,
drowned ghosts.
And then
for one minute - a second -...

Golden ogival arches,
morning light, a bird song,
unfolding heart.
Time, a
stardust sprinkle,
lightness of danseuses,
gestures of magicians,
gentle rowing on a placid lake,
love phantasy...!

Brief waltz by one,
tempo gravissimo,
string puppet stuttering...
Hush now, hush.
It's sleeping
time.

[personal definition based upon a study case of one]
1. Self-commitment to silence one’s heart; often described as ‘experiencing life holding your breath’ or ‘seeing the world as if you were on a river bottom’; main symptomes: being able to interact but refusing proximity .
2. Condition found after one’s sudden awaken from a long period of self inflicted cataleptic narcosis, by a singular human touch, and subsequently being unexpectedly left in the wide; main symptomes: non-stop spinning and sprinting in all directions; aphasia and forgetfulness of words; general deeply cultivated indifference beneath high level of external activity in order to endure the understanding of everything as delusional; slow return into narcotic catalepsis, mainly through smothering the heart beat.
Notes
1. Predisposition for the syndrome: perception of a flaw disabling wholeness; intrinsic tendance to flee from others when reality does not match one’s pre-vision; obsessive phobia of halves of nothing.
2. Treatment: unknown; progress shown under some conditions did not linger.
3. Survival rate: not appliable.

far, tree branches skim
the light satin of the moon
- unspoken fairwell

Somewhere in my brain, a black and white
picture glitters a vain embalmed past.
Come on, girl! Join the play, merry
you must be, all's a drollery.
Over the rainbow, you'll know, nothing waits!
Come on, girl! Join the play, for the heights!

Gritty playground, running coloured voices.
Aside, she seats wishing that someone calls.
Come on, girl! Others can notice
you, yet, silly!, you hope they will see!
Get off that uniform, stand up, reach out!
Come on, girl! Spin and sing, dance it all-out!

Took my seat as usually, an old broken
puppet in a shelf, left alone, staring around.

And this girl is walking and now she seats
right in front of me.

Renaissance white blouse.
Brown almond soft skin.
Wet red lips.

She looks right into my eyes.

We smile.
No.
We laugh. Openly.

If I had lean towards her
we would have kissed.

I can feel her lips,
I am sure
she would taste
like cherries,
her skin fresh
as a breeze
smoothly warmed
on my leaning.

We should have kissed.

If I wasn’t I.

And I shiver,
leaving the train
thinking of her
all this time after.

She
asked
him then for
sanctuary,
to run, hide away
from pain and death calling.
He let her in. Could he not
see, would he not know...? A stardust
path she silently draw... Never was
his thirst fulfilled, her heart unfolded.