let's believe winter
and the sledgehammer that
protects the flame of night
there are layers upon layers upon layers
mixing mingling confusing combining
colluding to obscure the dawn of mind
all is together and yet only fragments
roam around searching
for their other half in the poliphony of darkness

he is a spinning man
he spins himself into laughter into tears
powerful visions and sweet oblivion
while rushing outside of days
to find his spin
searching for a new vibration
an incantation of the living
while light is improvising in his shoulders

there are spaces in between the patterns
thare are hidden passages in between the thoughts
he is busy to explode
or maybe these are the leather hands of his father,
full of transactions
I see smiles killed before meaning
the magma of danger in the secret chambers
some white lies, blue lies
purple lies never
he is a hunter reading the signs of miracle
cunning as an uninvented night

I see him in a dark room
full of waves of moaning
and sometimes silence attacks him
with thousands blades
and he can't bear himself
by himself
with these heavy startles

I see him in the dark room
camera obscura
developing the image
of his unknown heart
of silence
lightness
true laughter