I follow the wind.
For I don’t know how to lead.
I wander in the desert.
My mouth, thirsty for blood
as my heart, constantly bleeds.
My soul, hungers for myself,
For the person I once have been.

 
But those eyes of a child,
long are they gone.
Sands of time
have eaten them whole.
Not knowing my true self
but blank are the pages of my thorned-up soul.
That fresh future I could write upon.
But these trembling hands
are holding me back, 
To define myself
as the light,
as part of the All.

Rochus