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inspirational poem

Sie sind mein Begleiter
die Schwärzung rollt aufwärts
fällt hier kein Licht
ich bin in das Ödland gekommen, weil meine Seele athirst ist
gegen die grüne Flamme des Weißdorn-Baums
wer den Wind nennen wird
ich brenne keinen Duft
geschaukelt in die Aufnahmevorrichtung vom tiefen
welches hält
die alten Songs
mit Lippenblut Rot und Herz des Steins

 



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