more than I, more than you,

more than the moods of seasons and the madness of dreams,

it is always here,

always here,

a sacred silence

where death is beautiful,

where, always here,


unborn children,

abandoned by angels,

grieve in a desolate sky,

seeking solace

in the karmic chaos

count me as your lover

in the face of this oblivion,

this nowhere,

this here,

always here,


this unbearable blindness,

this endless heart-rain of fire,

these crystal bodies raised

on pyres of ignorance and despair

accept this prayer,

from these empty hands,

from this naked place,

from here,

this nowhere

the mountains, oceans and deserts

are singing your name