The Journey

Through the never-ending woods

of trees of the blackest leaves

stands a stone pile, never understood,

many people tried but nobody could,

the feelings of deep sadness and grief:

It’s almost spiritual, looking down

through an outer space window.

There’s no taste, even less sound,

every word in the emptiness rebounds.

Why do I walk in this forest? Where to go?

Only one way, the ever watched cemetery,

the home and door of dreams that vary,

from the bottomless pit to the heavens above.

Not even my will is necessary,

only the wind that pushes me

and pets me in the back…

I’ve lots of dreams, fears so many,

is it confidence that I lack,

Is it welcoming hate in land of love?

I don’t know…

The journey is beginning.

You only reap what you sow,

the clock matches our breathing.