snowpiles won't move plows
as much as eyes move plows
i feel like floating over snows
in every dream i seem to be

home is a far-off place
a black silhouette
of an urban mountain

i will journey today
and cross the threshold into night
with you this sleep i'll spend
transit
no fare i offer, sorry
no fee did you demand

above the blind vanes we want to rise
not beholden to time's winds, like
incorporeal beings

and have the hopes of the world
as stars pinned on our refrigerator
each of them keeping us warm
in the voyage from
midnight to midnight

the clock will strike
the sun will fall
the world will stall
in a moment
a pale moment
surrounded by our visions
ribbons of a bright future

tomorrow
nothing will change
as we fly towards ryukyu
our last journey

but my world will exhale
as the days get longer
and sun-up again, stronger
and somehow this comforts me.