Everyone is doing
something without me.
But only in solitude
we are less alone.

Being in a state
of a permanent abyss...
Who even cares
about his dead cities?

I would breathe
through your gills.
I would see
through your eyes.
If you had them.
If you even existed.

So it's the point of departure.
The source of uncertainty.
Images of the past.
Sounds of the future.

Now the beings of light
are taking me
to the dark and lonely waters.
Viewed from above the surface
I'm dying while being held.

And the dust settles. Finally.

© 11.08.2015

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