Its been a year now, dear father
since the day you left us here,
and yet somehow we feel that
you are just around, close and near.
Even this world run out of paper
gladly forever i will write.
Even this world run out of pen
I found fondness
and old talks.
Whey they talk
Some familiar pasts
does really happen and flashedback.
I know i have saw that,
And in the same place, time and act.
In times of our death
we must not fear
for it is the gods way
to rebirth us
He was young at start
but he sailed careful and clever
and his sailing was likely
to the old sailor man.
How does one keep a job-like stance
through all the pain,
the endless sighs, the helplessness?
The silence after a frenzied riot,
After a terrible shooting fray,
After the noise of neighbors quarrel,
After a furious, explosive day...
I have been washed
by my own tears
under the sunlight rays.