Do not open this dirt file of
the suspended time. It reverberates
in me while standing
on the edge of a precipice.

Are you hungry of a desert
light in dark. The birds are
going to follow the sun carrying
the moon on their wings.

A dream creater stands on
a golden rock to retrieve
the archaic relic of a Desinovan
who hit the grave without shoes.

The greed ultimately takes over
the silent death.