wet, huddled,
lingering on lawns,
shivering,
waiting for
what’s worse to come since straying
off from the old strength

october,
when the changes come,
and, lately,
when you wait
for hope and estimation
of tomorrow’s peace

and without
an illusion as
to how it
will be found:
from inside what has been to
where you are going

and leaving
behind the voices
telling you
constantly,
that you must always wait, and
never really find

in woodwork –
bits of carpentry –
we find the
finest songs
humanity has composed
being sung daily

for we live
through storm and havoc
and order
must always
be a thing we bring to life
unvarnished or not

moving death
comes after still life
shades posing
as linen
covers stained wooden table’s
innocent fractures

in the still
and chilly morning,
clear is seen
what should be,
what should have always been, and
what we settled for

Artist credit : Valery Rybakou

sail away
on breathing waters,
find yourself
in absence —
separate togetherness
and love the voyage

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