Taken years wander around, 

too Bored with day and night

.

The wind hisses,

newly kindled stars gaze

.

Hugen cuts after, in me,

while clouds ignore and the birds swear

.

Are then waking the night in vain

and fathoming the moonbeams

over this bloomed out meadow

.

Surrounded traces of this life 

become gladness itself to a shimmer,

which runs 

through its ground base

before hope is expected

and avoiding

the formed heritage

where inaccessible turns,

waiting, Calling, waiting

.

One inside all the Light in here is played;

hearing wind whisper itself amongst leaves

in front of this awaited death duty plight

A rare functioning love insight

.

.

.

BLISS!

LOVE!

NECTAR!