I know the unspoken

Now I
Am going to bind my hope to a mountain
Because it is an encounter it is
A possibility.
On that mountain childhood’s mind
(Its) compassion/affection/tenderness was hidden.


I don’t know where your smile was left
And where is your unfinished stare/look.
Your half way buried body
Tells me
What is going on.
Because by looking behind I,
I got hurt.
This is a truth that was given to me too late
The last thing an encounter would give.
I remember the crops.
The wheat showing us how to be ourselves
When they get cut.
The poplar trees were moving that day
It was spring
Lifting all the joys in the air.
What we spoke I don’t know
But I know the unspoken.

The unspoken
Was what got lost into the rustling of the poplar trees and left
It was what was moving in our blood the unspoken.
But it is late
It is so late,
Even if I walk that mountain
There is no one.


Neither night
Nor fire
There is not waiting either between us
There is only a mountain.

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