GOTSALA

Wandering primeval forest, through swamps and over meadows

Living on reed root, lingo berries and blueberries 
Tasting the smell of wet moss and resin

Carry me to glimmering lights from the pond mirrors 
where the bed beside here is laid spruce twigs in a glade 

Handed a handshake to the dew 
when the hearts storms were overcome
Casted cleansed from the poverty need 
to find myself rested near the trees

I shall make snow here 
Wrap myself in soft moss 
Climb inside the faded flowers 
underneath ill-painted dark skies 

Molts of cold 
Mist rests

Breaking sleep 
off

Inside this waiting
the inner life-achievement is done

Learning to live
Again