confidence in that nothing ever ends once and for all...
drifting into the unknown, chasing the shreds of memory
that have stuck so deep...like shattered glass...the smallest mirror
pieces reflecting all the events denied to the point they have become unreal...
surrounded by boundaries, I don’t listen for the way back anymore...
I’ll keep sending letters with no address on until I realize
the future imperfect tense is merely an introduction
to the labyrinth of hope that no-one has ever been able to exit.
[09.10.2004]