Funeral is a Feast
Because of your fixation on me,
no leaf, no light can thrive
in my deserted mind.
trance is comfort.
My search for words is ongoing.
am feasting my eyes on your beauty,
sole image of my objectless landscape.
you open your soul or only your door
for me, your unknown man?
Wuthenow, by Grothes, Sunday, July 11, 2004