it's strange to be back
after days of sleeping
in the crevasses
of a secluded cave
of an inconceivable dream
under the streak of comets
which have showered me
with the wings of butterfly
to stop the paint,
to stop time
from dripping off the canvas
and out of context,
please, tragic one
the comet whispered
your time will come
in the parallel universe
I have saved just for you