We see the key that we hold
It’s there in the child’s hand connected
to the veins that keep you alive.
The table you lay on for comfort.
Water in the lungs.
Forget what I said about life
Remember what I said about death.
You hear the music that’s not playing.
The ride will now start.
Rewind the mind.
Being hushed by a pope from Italy.
Heart breathes exhaled,
Closing of the eyes like a garage full of guns.
I’ve found the holy cat on the tree,
guru, paint-chipped, 99 cent pieces on sale,
Liquid all down the fire walk makes you
tip-toe like a leprechaun from Russia.
Excuse the focus on the internal.
Return to the wind
Don’t speak over it,
Constant silence
Hush like a baby , let it take your leaves
Let it ask you
Ask you for the answers
You can give it away
Only to the wind
Creative Credits
- Written by
- Christian Madsen
- Photography
- Christian Madsen
