Me aging
Slowly fading
No masquerades
Skin so thin
Hair around the ear
This is funny this is weird
What will become of these bones?
When I am in the fire ashes and alone-

In the winters cold
I grow old
I hunger to catch the beauty in the air
The time will come and the despair…
Clinging too tightly to the remains of life
This is the first complaint the on-going strife

With you I share this fear
My dear
Time is ticking and moving along
With my soul singing preparing the exit song
And yet I travail at the itching beneath the wound
As I sit at night and stare at the moon
And undo the stitch that will release my frozen desires
And finally quench this aching fire.

Photo: Elohim Om Lotus, Lisette.