Guarding the hours altering; their changes: My prey.
Fogcovered ― AWAKENED!, rising ― Dawning now lifts itself
swiftly roused, opened in the lightsoaked halls in the forest
and all night is missing ― for a moment, ― again.
(Worries bite ― a burden lingers on.)
Wandering up all the Path’s aged, burnt in, yearsteps,
standing upon flowering field islands,
leaving by my withering footprints
and catching torn thoughts ― when spoken my heart clears, ― to remain.
Life’s heart, our hearts; are born matured.
So return, come you who listened, know the qualm cleanhearted;
on hate’s and gladness terms here allowed to tenderly intertwine
with the lighthearted ― maybe sorrowfilled, enlightened Sun’s routes.
I am proven ― when your shivers go cold, ― if you wake up.