After a sacred kill
you thrived in scriptures.
Many centuries have passed for us
living without you.
Thyme will preserve you body,
your brain, syndrome, for our children.

When the apocalypse starts,
Arctica would keep the seeds, grains, alive
and every death will be accounted for.
From mars the ice will come.
And people will bow before
the chariot of sun for breaking the stars.

Why the sadness is pouring?
I was not afraid of falling saints,
of big poles, but the masks of bones and skull.
Those veils are burning. The grandmothers
look at the blue sky and again we are
distributing our secrets to poor.