in the end everything seemed

to be superfluous,

our whims, our worries,

our everyday words

whirling in between

the four corners of any statutory affairs

 

in the end everything was

so predictable like the unfolding

of any well rehearsed drama

that our words became silent

like the tired desert

after the longest day of the year

 

in the end everything pushed

us to the edge of the words,

we exchanged in between our debates,

our secret plans,

our lies along the history

of war and peace unfolding the time