The First time
I left
a room of my own –
to dance in mist

Days shall end
My foot shall weary
You dance in breeze
so I uncoil my
wearied fist

Wander towards
pure white trees
Forest then felted
so my souls turning
words

When you can clearly
sketch his
countenance that creats
Another escaping
angel

Stages become paper sheets
my bodies are words
In your mist of tears
Every farewell is a
free verse

Shall we go dancing
in the mists of time?
Every minute of time?
Every minutes, every second
of us
is historying