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twelve times

Twelve times


To the end whatever you have

counted from the beginning.

Questions for spirits, though you probably know too much,

put in motion with a wheel of time.

The clock rusted, though you probably don’t know;

son, daughter - silence not of this world, come back

to the hallway with immortal folklore,

to the kitchen with a cat away from modernity,

sleeping upon the stove propelled with birch.


Bodies wanting nothing - the maps.

Roads beating with life from head to toes.

Stars so sacred, it is hard not to kneel.

However possible, reach out

through the viscose of hurry

for a string of breath,

and play, play, play until it bursts.

Because all is dreamed to us besides the love,

like Taurus in Uranus.


©Szweda

Castlerock 2019

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