always too late to wake up, for too late they figure

The winds uncharted soul

illuminates the suns

of our winter.

how long this longing shall stretch?

castles they are building now

and within walls of icicles,

fate they will want to decide.

All is with love,

All is with love…

metal cables and odourless silicone

All is with love,

All is with love…

But symbolic beings

believe in systematized beginnings

For always too late to wake up, for too late they

figure;

So passes the crescent of aeons

From elders in dead cities

to uncanny molecules.