The box is open;
all its treasures have spilled out,
the sour milk that cures.
Then, a door slams shut,
and we can no longer move
where secrecy reigns.
On the other side,
one can find oneself anew,
wand'ring in the wastes.
Today, when I die,
I shall give my body up,
that I become free.
May 24, 2014
May 24, 2014 at 6:01 PM UTC
The box is open;
all its treasures have spilled out,
the sour milk that cures.
Then, a door slams shut,
and we can no longer move
where secrecy reigns.
On the other side,
one can find oneself anew,
wand'ring in the wastes.
Today, when I die,
I shall give my body up,
that I become free.
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