a sigh of desire deep
deeply sheltering in man's labyrinth
rest he does not know
he does not want
because that would mean like dying
reed stems, broken by
a gentle stroke of endless
so tender, so strong this
moment which seemed to be
risen from yesterday's mists
melting in today's sun
resurrected atop tomorrow's
will he ever rest?
will he ever
sleep in the cradle of
woven memories?