I walked into
An old building
Vacant yet
Lived in

I opened
Door after door
Peering into
New air

I realized
I was searching
For what was
To be

There were
No windows
On the doors
For a reason

I could not peer
Into the future
The past
Was futile

There was
No knowing
Left only to patterns
Or engagement

I could stop
Walking
The corridors
Of this wood abode

One more door
To go
What was next
Solitude or sorrows

As I stood alone
I met the room
With nothing to lose
No compass for death

There once was a martian from Mars
Named Alfț'drônþopo'gorgg'glìån'nars:
     He constructed a spaceship
     And went on a spacetrip
To the farthest, most alien stars.

My emotions, vast and untamed, are nothing but a restless cry in a world sworn to silence. And my mouth, an irreversible threshold, where every word spills like a spell, unraveling the wound of a truth that was never meant to be spoken.

If this is life and its relentless rhythm, why should I plead for it to dwell within me? I lack the strength to bear its weight and the resolve to withstand its judgment.

There is no refuge from the weight of what I am, nor a silence deep enough to swallow my own echo.

The talking falters,

that's why I burn poplar wood --


that always crackles.

Oh, sea of tranquility,
we came, but we could not swim,
so we claimed you with a flag
and put a towel down for the race,
then we left our grubby footprints
across your perfect face

We dream of something

new, suddenly a new path --


in the well-known woods.

Cautiously I take

my very first steps, my eyes --


feeling out the light.