Before me silence.

Only behind disturbing whisper.

And I now again one.

Steps it is not audible. A chasm. A precipice.

Before me emptiness.

The sun of dark patches of light is sacred.

Sacred zero of a non-existence.

And night is dead without harm and shouts.

I inhale dryness of darkness.

The head easy will shake.

Change paints ahead.

Darkly. Easily. And to me it is obedient.

Heart knock I hear. A breath. Flight!

Towards to a grey web …

And it is a lot of years after rising

Will spoil a dead picture.

Beams will pierce hard darkness.

The fog over a chasm will brighten.

Rising-decline, rising-decline …

But the world will not mature in any way.