Produced from the maelstrom of neglection

my nocturnal prayer died away

in the unreality of a never ending happiness

"My prayer...?"

"Died away in eternity!"



If there's live before death

it's not for me

who spreads his dark cold pinion

over the eternal silence

of a gnawed frosty winter landscape

"My prayer...?"

"Died away in eternity!"



The answer of the mystery

which is put into my hands

is the unholy property of a

longest forgotten insufficiency

which built on rusty pillars

indulges in senseuality to the

morbid repulsiveness of ruin

"and what moves there in the shadow?"

"It's your image!"

"Who calls there in the mirror?"

"It's your comprehension!"



Unrestlessness whispering appearences

shatter the frail ear

which escapes with the folly

of an unconcerned remonstration

up through black dirt into the light