Love is not room of rumour

Play,
play on.

Trip on the shadow.

Break.

Sieve,

sieve the fragments.

Be residue.

Arrange,

arrange the empty spaces.

Disperse.

Return,

mark the endless distances.

Wait.

Longing is another knowing.

Anticipate not, be.

Let your pauses unfold.

Love is not a room of

rumours, a crack in the

dust, it peels not

like rust. You cannot

wipe yourself clean.

Its the recurring wave that

fills and empties you

at the same time. It leaves

a mark on the stone.

The script takes long deciphering.