Birthing a new son, life can deceive the moon, while changing the age of some, maybe lighting up the sun, the death, until the idea I roam, I need.
Born again and again, times are seconds away, moments of clarity become, new spaces in the middle of me. In the middle of the sand, even in the cracked rock, between the shadows dropped, by the lack of the sea. It doesn’t flow or follow? yet follows the destiny of me.
The plan is set, keeping us away, while setting the fray, once again, to give and take the end, from dirt, dust and pain.