Here, now:
looking at the bright star of your deity bodyless.

You have grown colder
as the music use to say,
and i have grown deeper into a trance
that encompasses my void.

Let me see your fragile weakness soul
and play spells
incomprehensible magic mantra
becoming shadow
indulging wounds
praying the secret poem
to a homeless paria.

Let me take the easy way
to death.

One day we will become
into flowers
and our smells
will write
the cantata of mature fruit
and our song
will reveal the sadstone
that burns
within.