I’ll be lost somewhere no one would find me,
Between the forgotten rotten yellow leaves of an autumn;
In a vacuum between the past and present,
Which are both nothing,
Like the future.
All the gone moments have been each a future of chances and choices,
Not taken and made.
I’m stuck into this soil’s muddy hands.
How easily
I shiver,
I fall,
Though rooted…
Sunday, November 30, 2008
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