The Look

By your quiet behaviour,
by your graceful gait
and your name;
I swear
that I pluck a piece of cloud
from the sky of your eyes
and let loose
in the ambush of the wind;
till hereafter,
not just I
be the chamberlain
of your look's hall.

The Fear

Suddenly a plane
broke it's sad lump
above my head.

I stare at the dark illusion
of the sky
restless.

There is no trace.

A moment passed
and the feeling of flight changed;
just as the pain
being weighed
different.

Now look!
at the amazement of her eyes
upon the seed of fear
crashing
from the broken ceiling
of the sky.

And look!
at the vibration of the cold roots
crawling
inside the body and the soul
impatient.