chameleonian times

Painless headbutt 
Of flowers

A whirl within
And I feel the claws 
That never touched me
More than the beat 
Of the cat and the stick
Of the drum or the whale

A leviathan on the edge
Of oblivion that comes after
Killing fairy tales killing
The fairies, for what?
No withered witches only
A heron looks at the cat that looks at the flower-cloud.

It is a silent dance
An echo of the warm 
Murmur of life in me
That never stops you
From coming after me
In my mind, our sunrise now
But the choice is oblivion
And I do not care anymore
About that look in your face
Cat
About that need in your bells
Stick

Clouds go by blue
Skies