riven by the sharp splinter
of a destiny entwining her
silken membrane around
my restless heart,
my soul floats on the wild waves
between unfathomable despair and
utter ecstasy

write me
with the ink of your
secret weeping for old wounds

write me
so the culled wind might leave
the north to seek shelter within
the snow of your spring heart

the trembling of honey and
cold milk pierces me like
woolen crystals,
gestures of a
rumoured nourishment
yes, unseen
through the eyes of the world

I bleed and
breathe apple scents of golden
paths crossing a sea of
ancient friends
as if the candle flame was never really
washed away by the winds of time

as if

the anguish of one grain of wheat
might force whole fields to hatch and


any time now