I can’t keep running away.

My legs are tired from this,

my head is hurting;

I need to find rest to get well again.

I stop at an abandoned building.

Have I seen this place before?

My memory recalls: big mansion, demolished windows — not a thing here is tidy.

In a dream, or maybe in a movie?

The walls depict a past destruction.

The rotting smell sickens me —

the heavy air presses down like plates ...

I observe out of my window:

Species of birds I do not know;

Trees old and grown and

The sky that whispers stories untold.

I wish to fly over seas,

To climb mountains for years,

To talk to an Angel in bliss.

If wishes flew like birds, then certainly I am a flock;

If wishes grew like trees, then certainly I am a forest;

If wishes fell like rain, then certainly I am a storm....