O goddess of priests,

in punishing myself

I found you today.

Tonight you will sleep

in my eyes,

and I will search my

lost poems.

Did you touch the

faded leaves to bring back

a withered spring?

A song still waits in the throat of a cuckoo.

The wasted years!

Do you hear me, walking

in sleep on burning coals as

a penance for the world

going wrong.?

What did I do? I ask my

past, my present, my unhappened future?