i


upset an oxymoron
of little interest
(not strictly oxymoron
either)

but we do our best..
the sky is falling
like the old nest
pick it up

look through the holes
and wonder of
our lonely existence
in stone..

ii

consider the moss
and the random
beauty of it´s
elegance..

question it´s
practise
and comfort
which is set

in your hand
now
like any
lost crown..

iii

no oxymoron
no doubting
here is love
and here is thin

reason
make up
our minds
in a few sands
here is faith..