They described me as fall, didn’t they?

My consciousness floats inthe winds of change.


Captain, where does it lead us?

I look at stars and coordinate.

Masses of fish clear pale eyed, with hands to carry my motion, with ears to hear my lost words, swim through my


In time, I recognize the echo of my voice.

Unused. Unspoiled. As unchanged as my leaves fallen from the trees.

Fish won’t you catch them?

Won’t you paint those thoughts on your corpses?

Won’t you drink my blood, my heartache?

They swim on, protected by their numbers.

Not seeing, not touching, not breathing.


Just for a moment they are here.

You will breathe the darkness underneath my feet; feel the cold of distance, hear the laughter of bitter death.

From my ship, I kiss a single  one of you and let you drown again in the masses.


Captain, where are you leading us?

After those seas of despair, an embracing sun.

After those shadows of past,  the present will shine.

Sailor, don’t be afraid! Under  my wing, you rest  at night. And at day you hold the ropes to catch my storms.


The tree grows taller every day, catches the lines of beautiful moons, and catches the squares of beautiful suns.

How did fall colour the leaves so fast?

How did the fish survive the fires?

How did the sailor imprison the wind?

Sensible and strong he is.

Takes every height and translates it, takes these words and guides my ship.


Every thought changes the direction, every word becomes a storm.

By its whispering echo, I will reappear to guide you. I am wind,  will kiss you passing; will bring your ashes to sun-

burnt beaches.

White is the colour of your  death, white becomes your soul.

Black are my hands carrying you.

Black my brain hearing your thoughts.

Black my lips, kissing your mouths. Tired I am, of filtering you.

You are waiting, craving still for my touch.

Captain, where are we leading each other?

Nowhere. On.