Sky is the end of the race,
All we do is pedal to it.
Some moves so far
That their roots are torn.
Endless they strive,
But up to where?
The void? The sand ship?
But where ends the sky?
All we tend to kiss the sky and strive,
Under our prayer and sweat.
Some with wings, some in dreams,
Some with boats or rafts, we walk,
But to which horizon
The sky ends?