The sun goes down in plain dark,

Here I witness a dream in plane grey

Clouds, the exquisite dreams of dreams

Within sea-shore, wanderers walk in

Barefoot, stand in the long street.

The sun rise, glimmer and fall asleep

In the pit of darkness, wind blows in

A burden of hope with the number

Of waves, scattered and gleams

I close my eyes to see.

There, in the song of rain I see her picture

whirling, in the drowsy brain: I follow

Her footsteps, in a fear maybe the day

Comes soon, but the flare of heart

Stay still, in the evening where I seek.

Under the chasm of moon, behind

The silver lake water, I walk in the ghostly

Forest, I watch the perplex problem

Ebbs in the soft rhythm.

This is momentary, the silence to cut

the words, dies out before they roll but—

In the grey town, one side there's light

In the woven fire, I see her rocking chair

Making sounds in the dark.

For once, the clouds twinkle, murmurs

Of rain I once wished for, the evening

Always so violet, in the purple dreams

I see dust coils over the city, once I draw.

Half forgotten memories, half rotten

desires, there I see her in the flash

of light, to mingle as the fall comes,

Colouring the vague dream.

She's the moving music, she's the noise

Of past, only a few see fury in her eyes,

She's me in the dark pages of streetlight,

I left a part of me, to form another string.

The wind blows in the north part,

The city hushes down a murmured dream.

— 3rd August, 2024.