Siamatic to my soul
deep within the pit of my being
I feel gushes of hope
and then I stop seeing.

I love the stillness of the wind
the movement of deep waters
waif-like touch of your being
crushing my other.

Up against the hill
drowned in the loch
my vision fails me
my eyes moisten over

I reach out to you
my fingers holding on to the winds
I am slipping now
I lie within your sin


-Moi