Looking back, I recognize pieces
of the road that I went
The connections are gone
there are still no signposts

I can count the fictional
reality, the numbers
of seasons, homes, friends
The rest is a dream cord

of desires and parties
that I have not forgotten
of unrequited love
and perfect moments

memories in the deep
black, lighting up
as floating islands
with graceful peaks

of adventures
a journey
through the abysses of the night
that make children cry