To John

if this morning
for the last time sew for you
shoes of Dreams
with which you'll silently hug
endless fogs of disappearing
my shadow will follow you
to protect you if necessary
and to make you smile if
ever grief fly over
your beautiful face

it is not regret
what I say to you now
it is not desire
which torment me in the long night hours
which I am counting within the grooves of consciousness
it is not the memory
on your lips
and your touch

it is only
one butterfly flew out of the darkness of the larvae
exempt from the staples and bonds which
linked him too long
to an invisible shackles of his
forgotting-ness of his
true self

these are just sounds
of the melody which my heart sings
for the first time in my life
thankfully and wounded
at the same time

it is only anxiety
that I will love you long long time
even when I forget
on which side you're gone
and when I will be able to find you
only if
I seek for you inside of myself