veröffentlicht am: 15.07.2013
The time runs relentlessly through your fingers,
the time that you denied us.
Now your footsteps echo in the distance
and the beat of your heart sounds of broad as the slave drum.
"You are" is what you say
"I was" is what you think.
For a moment, the floating grain of sand remains
Next up the wind whips you out with it.
But you go.
Go back without a glance.
And the bleakness of your soul envelops your past.
And the light that once illuminated your heart remains extinguished.
Until the sand is trickled… forever.