In a tower
Climbing the sky
Inside a closed glass room
A skeleton sat very close to me
And put its hand on my shoulder, mumbling:
"You are my brother,"
then gave me a butterfly
heading for the flame.
Descending in the dark
Tripping on the steps
The world came to me and put its heart in my palm.
It burned my fingers
Like an amber
Wrapped in ash
And blotted with human blood.
A permanent truce
Between man and what came before him.
A permanent truce
Between the wind and the tree.
Put out the fire,
Let the butterfly return to its flower.