from: nevin
title: timeless
form: text; e-mail letter

I wish I had read it one year ago, or never...
Why now...
His hands are chubby with his dreams, ambitions,
curiosity and toys, in his plain world he is
sometimes joyous, sometimes sad, or broken...
He cannot define the storms of a complex soul
He stares at tremors of the ill body with amazement,
then goes back to his game
Sometimes plural, sometimes duet, or singular
Everybody must join him
He thinks he is created that way
I am like a fish out of water
My body is perched
Death is about to arrive
I can’t return...