The vessel was full,
without eternal verities.
I open my mouth
to drink the dark minutia.

Do I love you or not,
holding your hand I would ask?
Your eyes will speak in
god's language. Only silence of stone.

And when will my journey
will stop, if I don't find you
waiting for me? Do you think we
know each other intimately as the lines
of the palms?

Home, I have again lost it.
Was there a home of god, who
would melt when I was
lost in the dark woods?

I walk with empty hands.
Nothing to offer now.