“stealing the runaway life in the silence of the universe and the calm of the moment, with stories having a start but never an end; I crossed the passages of life by demolishing what’s left on the way,
could it be my illusion or was I just the prey?”

when the light inhabited distances and planted seeds of bliss
I couldn’t have seen it, was that a substantial miss?
eyes of glass, unable to cry
neither wince in pain nor willing to die...