all memories like wilted orchid
and i smelled the earth
i remember four quarrelsome stars
slipping beneath my fabric
how i miss them on winding night

belonging is worship
now i became god
and i'm not satisfied
until you give
contentment escapes

and like a god i am,
creating and creating endless ashes
tasting like burnt date
and keep asking to myself
is god ever satisfied?

mother on sand
mother on my hand
mother slips now
like an escaping memory
while sparkling more than ever
urging me to worship.