Don't stand in front of me With empty hearts and reasoning Of dried out joints With eyes painted on and Measure man in feeble quantities And degrees of utter senselessness From ages gone you stored up for me Broken bones and misery A silent, shameful sword ready to slide Secretly into me I handed over plans, solutions, inventions Into your slowly closing fist Your celebrations expressed in Casual destructions Chilled, broken what peace would come? The peace of a bird Under the whispering leaves of her breath. Life cornered, detained In constant company with Fear of loss.