into the air, flying over the bars
night after night
something ought to give
but can't, because you should've prepared

a feast that the righteous hold back
a sea of farewells, give a living gift
a child sits behind and drops the head
a heartstring can snap, and repenters too.

glass and wood shan't collide, bright beings
must move on.
I won't cry, the sea's enough filled with old secrets
and tone illustrations crumple, the gazelle flies free.