Horeida . The stepping stone

It doesn’t matter what it was of me tonight,

The same histories make me blind, i forget to feed your light.

Another day to find the usual scheme to apply,

On the stepping stone i could see the right,

Where to move,

The whole is sound and it occludes me to change my path,

As it was construed into dreams and crashed everyday into reality,

Some normality, the bones absorbing steps,

The things that make you black and blue,

The disappearing stack,

Of all the nights I’ve passed dreaming of you,

Local steamer following beams and bulbs,

To get some fresh air around,

A slap in the face to warn you loud,

It makes no sense when you just pretend

To find it somewhere

Exactly the same you dreamed about.

To a lesser extent, it makes no difference of we as leaders or followers,

If it was a dream, we were together,

Some windy pat within the cloudy weather

Our fishing trip to wave out the day and stay up there,

On the floating vessel

Saying something to represent that sound.

Horeida 31 07 2018

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