The prediction goes awry.
I wipe away an exotic...

I am standing in peat.
The war drags on...

Deep lies the truth, unfathomed,
you cannot touch it...

A lifetime with a classic pain,
does not give me peace or freedom...

When the rage
will not find an exit...

In the moment of reckoning
or nemesis, I call you...

Clouds had veiled
the waning sun...

Was there any
time space to recuperate...

I do not write about something
or anything. You will...

Skylit my bright atrium,
pumps the future...

Lime green you
were navigating in...

Standing on a cliff
holding the hand of a tall tree...