When you are not here...
When they are gone, I can scatter you with a grain of berry to make it difficult, but to create you again. I can draw you with words, with dreams, so that it is impossible, but you still have it.
When they are gone and I can not feel you when you are in the light years away, to draw you, to create you, to have you, it sounds my skinny - like a holy icon. I will not paint you. Not tonight, when the sun went out.
I made the winds quiet - they remind me of you, but of the best of you when you are another and when you are yourself. The blue disappeared into the heights, the white disappeared into the snow, the waves disappearing into the sea. Yavorov says: "Dark infinite ..."; I will add "unbidden" to "dark infinite" when you are gone.
When they are gone, I have no choice but to pray for your welfare. When they are gone, I have nothing else but the well of the desire to throw my coin. And it lit up in the moonlight, the water, the living. Everything to take away. Everything to wash away.
Splashing water in a risen well to come again. Purified. Enlightened. Share it. To tell. You know how much I love your voice, the light in it, through which the distances disappear. Your voice - it's just me. Let me discover it. Happy or tormented. I will go into an open war, I will go into the subversive struggle, if necessary, and will not leave you. But who am I? Not even "no one" ...
When they are gone, so much is my memory of your laugh. Casual, spontaneous, impulsive. Without a drop of squalor in it. When it's gone, I'm so fond of your laughter, of your laughing laugh ...
Much love - Krisii
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