in the lost gardens,
on floating island
where wet labyrinths
sing ancient songs
through trees long leaved
heavy wings flashing
with cold, shaking grin
Uriel walks.
in
foam full of planets ,dead stats and comets
he leans down slightly
and washes his cloth.
gold is the sky
through his hair
and lightning
gently caresses his whity glow

magic current
opened up a garden
ancient as chants still echoed in storms
so vibrant that
every sight requaired a power
so alive
that fire emerged on green ponds
single star guarded
half floatin island
absent and detached
yet most warm and well known
and hand
half transparent
reached to
touch lightning
and in that instant
all like dream was gone