act 73: a drowned crescendo

it’s gloomy in here
you hardly sense
a breath escaping
and lips seem
to be made of stones
cold and beaten
by the wind

forever silent
forever waiting

and all is slightly grey
the sounds just lay
on the softest heart
vibrating slowly in the
cavity of chest

an unplayed symphony
that’s hidden at the bottom
of the ocean
in your body

God is a merciless fisherman

merge into reflection
of a river stream
being blinded by
the callous flow
you swim with
the pisces of reverie

caught by God´s hands,
left on the land
and never set free
you suffocate