The light of today fades
and my heart is lonely.
Stranded alone,
I feel like
writing to the ends
of the earth
— to spill some blood
from my heart.

Sometimes I like praying.

At this time of night
the calendar changes
and a new day starts counting.
Maybe I should too —
but that would be fleeing,
wouldn't it?

I'd rather wait
for the inspiration
of a rising sun.