Wooden hinges,
On a rusty bench,
In a sleeping city,
Of the coast of time,
Darkness expanding,
Laughter heard,
But not in this city,
Of the coast of space,
Wind is calling,
For someone to understand,
The sun is rising,
Like lit flames,
Tumbling across the coast,
To find another world,
Waves do crash,
And stop the weak,
From what they do not know,
Every day they stumble,
But return to their footing once more,
Endless sky,
Do you see it all?
The rain pouring,
Across history’s word,
Or laws of magnitude,
In upheld questions,
Of this city,
Just of the coast,
Of the coast of time and space.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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