and heavy.
The sun sings
A painful, burning song
to the tops of my shoulders.
The sky is lost
somewhere between
my mind and my eyes,
and I think for a moment
that I created it.
The world stops,
for there is a treason.
A treason in you,
a treason in me,
a thought that anyone of us
did anything more than
just close our eyes and dream.
But the earth is forgiving,
and continues
it's compulsive revolution.
And the sky is there,
the day is cool,
and I, content,
