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Great expectations weaving a winding sheet

For all belief

Over the edge of space it floats away like haze

into the deep

What once

seemed to be worth

every breath

Is nothing but shapes in the mist

What once

used to be carved

in stone

just riddles that cease to exist

Senses declining

ouroboros unwinding

twisting and squirming

but never returning

The face in the mirror

disappears like a ghost

slowly melting away

airy notion

matter in motion

fading along with the day

Through silent dull air

sounds a scornful song

a small night storm whispers

„not for you“

„not for you“