Hand in hand, a light year trip thro' ephemer,
towards destinations hidden in diverseity of the sublevels...

Addict, to random flashes of memory,
I get compromized by them into state of melancholy:
Deceiveing magnet, devying voice,
Severing the integrity of my will.
Inclined by attitude, my lack of choise,
Make me feel the flight,while I just stand still...

Your crimson shape mesmerised, I reach,
Not being able to realise-mesmerised, Which
Is more dangerous of the magnets you hold,
Your crimson shape or the child in your eyes.

Paralized I remain,framed by your presence
So sweet, my disaster it breathes me in,
Exhaleing it leaves me untouched;within,
I admire you playing with satyrs,
While envy them for simply being,
Closer to you...."

Copyright ©2009 Slava Lungu