Garnet

On my own patience
your voice is always falling.
On my own finger
you are an unfound ring:
of sun, my garnet.

But untraceable are you
shadow of the past reflected
sunlight of the died priest
my red box,
my red box outisde of my own.

Vermillionon passion.
forgotten wish

You know:
always my thirst.

You know
always good friend

the punishment behind
my tight mouth.

the air that moves
my breath
halo!

the air that moves
the word
the air that moves
my word.

But that morning
and tomorrow
and then,
You will be the silence,
and the bird; my cloud.

And I will be, at the window
thinking of you.

And nothing more
And nothing more.

For you,
of water the existence.
For you,
of winter the voice.

And nothing more
To me, nothing more.