we begin our descent
into solitude

onto the land
of painters and writers
accountants and liars
the land that never forgets
it only seldom forgives
the land where all our decisions
must be made

we approach the barrier
of fluffy clouds
misleading beauty
as droplets–thousands
of pieces of life–
reflect our image
and we gaze at ourselves;
we are ashamed
because we don’t belong
in crystal-clear water
or perfectly-shaped flakes
of snow now falling down to earth

we begin our descent
the clouds approach
ever nearer
we submerge into oblivion
and we all smile
we sip our red wines
we laugh our cackles
and cry poems away

we are entoured by white
all is white, clouds, peace
all is well
we tell ourselves, over
and over again: all is well
we are not lying to ourselves

the land smiles
land of decrepitude, of pain
land of poverty and rhymes
land of which we are born all
land who is mother to us all

we belong to this land
to its uneven shapes
its fractured verses
we are not birds
the skies are not our friends
all engulfed in flakes, fake
fake notion that we
us, that are human
are able to forget
to fly away

the land hugs our feet
it roots our beliefs
it own ours ship
the land is our vessel now


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