Long is the time which went by,
Mary.
Long like a river dark.
And there remains no single story
For us to cross
The pure seas, or spark
A light into our ancient glory
Of days we were alive,
Holy.
Of days before the spot
Turned lone, sullen and dreary.

I will sail on a shattered glass,
Blame me not -
I will hum an air so sad, so lonely,
That I’ll wake the child up again,
And then,
Run away.

Geneva
Is a ray of light
Where ferruginous ducks
A million lullaby,
They sing.

And in the dark of night,
I have discovered
A Fragment
Of peace.

And by the lake I've seen
Memories of future,
Joy.
And I have seen
Life
As it should've been.

Poor scarlet waves
born to die already.
Wearing their mother’s robe
On their fragile body.
Why do we rush to our ends,
hitting the things unsteady?
There is some grief in ends,
I know..
But maybe there is rhapsody.