the words arrived to me

in a broken phrase of

despair which was long ago forgotten

as if placed by

the song I wrote when very young

like a leaf in the wind

or ten blossoms

slowly dying in the moon

whilst the black cat

crossing the path is

there for the myth

it seems to make

whenever seen by the knowledge

that is in the misunderstanding

as so many people do

but we all live in different places

Of comprehensive stories and I

know that you are just

twelve hours away from a dead day

that should have recharged but

we all have somewhere to

be when the studies shake the tree

and I will always be me

like a good arrow

with a gem on it