Robe Project — 44
How is it that the images so rich in flashes
Take the world away as walking
Stumble, overcome by impressions
And when I set to paper.
— — Try to set to words, the tongue fades
I find again and more
You are not my mind, my eye, my heart
The vocabulary of my ears I cannot share, though willing
In the fade I lose the frame
— — the theme, and the inspiration seems
— — to disappear upon the 1st exhalation.
What beauty remains?
Sadly, in my memory, and to try to pass it to you?,