The bus rolls down the highway road.

Small fishes in shoals

travelling through my belly, my chest, my throat.

 

Your ruthless sun burns my skin.

It pierces through the pale glass

of the window, while the wheels just spin

and my mind tries to run

further away

from your bright bright sun.

But I can't. I just can't.

And I try.

And I fight the light.

But I can't pass

the way the fields, the trees and the clouds

do pass me.

I saw you

standing on the corridor.

You pushed me away, little fool,

with your gaze.

 

And so I walked out of the door.

And I entered another space.

Another presence.

With all of you essence

sparkling, shining inside of me.

Making the small fishes do their dance

in my belly, my chest, my throat.

 

And it hurts.

It hurts so much.

And it warms my soul.

And everything else just keeps on passing

in this lifetime role.