it seems You don’t know how to fall
be carried over edges sharp and slippery
hopefully following somebody’s call
only with the Heart you see
where the blueberries grow
– expecting Me to catch you though.
I’m carefully washing stones out of angel hair
while You let the Soul wander, up in the air
softly whispering the songs he’s living in
the scars that mark Our body shine brilliantly gold
– at least according to the songs You told.
Now here we stand – silent; it’s dark.
falling apart with all Our heart
but closely holding on to each Other
– this time right from the start.