Rain of Senses, Ripples of Time
Long sheath or shadow, it is so fragile and delicate
I am in , I am out, yet I know it is so much there
It is wrecked like an unwanted ship, incline to my thoughts
I am in, I am out like a child for an eternal womb
I am wild, I am wolf, for a dancing forest of many ages
Senses are glued to it, as it resonates my songs
All I know is it has waves, periods, cycles, rains, seasons and songs too
We know it by pale ripples and the wrinkled faces of all those mirrors
Time, its stealthy wishes, they stood next to my horrible evenings
I mediatate, I contemplate, I vision, I corrupt, I collect, I kill
My senses, My lovable lusty mind and body, and their unknown roots and leaves
Yet they live and know, die and unlearn all by itself
When I ripple, I crawl and I cry in the songs of time
And you see just and must, a little echoes and ripples in time
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