Lost in mundanity

Sometimes, it is what you don’t say
You live by:
The sooted, almost-burned-down logs
That no one ever kindled
But that still warms
Your every thought,
Like smoke signals from a heart
Lost in a forest
Frozen by mundanity.

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It’s snowing on the treetops

It’s snowing
On the treetops
Casting long shadows
On a lake
Frozen
Black and blue by
the moonlight
Sweeping white-glowing
stars
Smelling of
gravity
Gripping around
My ankles
To keep
My secret from spilling
Into the deafness
Of the cleft
Underneath.

Into the mystery

The autumnal quiet
When all that’s left
Are pine needles and
A defenseless barren moor.
And the inflamed sky walks
Among pines, leaving
Bloody footprints among
Thorns. But I
Do not fear the quiet,
I do not need to hurry
Before dusk. I willingly
Poke holes
In my heart to let in
The night.

Floating in elevated loneliness

The world is created anew
Every time I open my eyes
Leaving behind the nocturnal land,
I am the first word to break the silence
As earth breaks apart from the sky
And starts growing and growing
Am I the farming core
Preparing spring for summer
On a tiny star floating
In elevated loneliness.

The Wild Self

Behind the veil of your skin
Is the atmosphere of the past:
A laughing brook shaping
Grey hard rocks with
Childish giggles,
Torrents of rain on a leaning
Autumn canopy making
Leaves swim in nutritious graves.
And when night is coming
What will you do?
Will you wish upon burning
Meteors made into dust
By our home’s feverish skin?
Or will you cast aside the veil
And meet your wild self
Staring back at you
With softer eyes
You forgot were your own?