no more drops falling from above

the sphere we stand in seizes us
protecting the flesh not to be twisted
by the paths of the snow flakes

our warm gasp is the spring for the fog
that we’ll drink forth in the final life – sum
of the souls for each moment of breath

no more skins, nor old bones

the threads continuously spin
from one point, the infinite ghost
reflects in the mirror the future

***

stop smothering me!