weathering among my thoughts....

days start so young...yet, then, turn old and about something else

the different air is felt....new days wont begin until the dark, old moon escapes its shadows again

turning air against itself and bleeding black along the clouds, the clock ticks its time and something happens in-between....i so wish to know

every bit of the world which I call here and now just draws a glance....working against the start which was in fact, quite young, daring and star driven....such dance...

one of grace, one of of loving...everything above me matters...not a call to god, simply myself....I miss this person...I know I exist...