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