In a hollow tree
like hiding your past
in a talisman,
with bleeding heart,
when sun eats you
ant by ant.
To my clouds,
with a premonition, they
followed me every day
when I was walking on my
toes, moving away
from my bones.
Like walking fern
you hop from one hole
to another, to plant the roots
for future of echoes and
footprints. Towards the
dark I will sail to find
the slaughtered moon.