I died long ago in a barren soil
Claimed by the wickedness of turmoil
Unfurled like a sail to drive by the wind
Farther... Farther into nothingness
Drifted, apart from vex of other forms
Alone, wallowing in a tender caress of the passing time
Hope again, simmered like pot of broth
Estrangely biting the skin
Wincing of too much heat
Leaving the drenched soul into lowlessnes
Persevere
And is the twin of waiting
As the other is not around when one is far
Freely roam and never to go back
Mac