Autobiography

Listless thoughts that escape me

Like old painters who cannot see

And little birds with broken wings

I think of all these sacred things

I think of life, I dream of dying

On starless skies I find them lying

I stare at bells that never toll

Their silence eats my mortal soul

The sea sings of timeless love

The moon stares from above

She can smell his salt and his bliss

She drowns in him, she finds her peace

Floating by the stream of guilt

I think of nests I never built

But someday, perhaps, it will rain

To heal my wound, to soothe my pain

Words have borders, but life has none

This poem shall end where it begun

For this moment is my eternity

And I’ll stay awake in this sleeping city