A monastery: a good idea.
Four days had completely disappeared
If he, who got the music,
from his mind. Then he noticed
shaved his head, constrained
August had also vainshed into blankness.
his exuberant passion why not us, but mere mortals? Otherwise he would die, without ever knowing the true meaning of faith.
There was a pulse, a beat, not the tick of the clocks nor the waves of the sea but a sound, maybe a breath, slightly perceptible, also easy to ignore.
A hay(na)ku chapbook.