When the images fade
in the vortex of delicate scents
and the recall of senses
is a vast expanse of autumnal leaves
slowly the journey into the unknown begins
how many questions
how much reasoning
get lost in ancestral labyrinths
as a ball of wool that doesn’t roll up
the thought stagnates in anterooms with no doors
on the walls
incomprehensible shadows
nightmares
old ladies praying on their knees
telling their beads
in their rough hands
candles smell of wax
today again
outside
the sunset
