I am the game that tricksters play
Hope of elsewhere
so much love and fear
when so many wonders
Mana
Sinking into oblivion
deep in a fait accompli
survival instinct
Wilderness
Tiny elfs
under a moon’s dew
frails and doubtful
The esteem of days
Allowing oneself time
sweet promises as a legacy
to the setting suns
Libertines
In the folds of time
sleep troublesome dreams
and former lives
Beatha Uisge
Living askew
among half-open words
that are turning to dust
Watercolor repentance
Heat hazes
languish grudgingly
the red tree in tears
