Rivers of melted music
Fuse into a sculpture
Around this old oak tree,
A thousand years old,
The moving air vibrates, ventilates. 
Sound, shape, sightless shade
Spill into my sinner's heart
As my whole world falls apart,

This is a  place apart 
that comes fluttering on the wind
Mushroomed and acidic
And is no more.

And so I settle into the coolness of thought
Follow the stream, just as you must follow
Your heart. Run and you'll never
Stop running,
Mired in light or shade,
You'll run towards
Your grave..