how can I read this silence, its meaning, temperature and flow,

how can I adjust my wings to the narrow passage through another night?

cries echo in hollow hearts, 

dissipative systems flood the world with a false sense of harmony,

filigree words swarm around the black beehive of what remains untold.

it is never too late for love, he whispers in my ear

in an almost extinct language he tries so hard to keep alive.

but how can I trust him? he comes from a world

where money melts in the mouth like honeycomb

and desire is plump with gold;

he is not even aware that our existence here, on earth

is the somber negative of another life -

all luminous energy and gravity-defying dance.

look, it is waiting for us right there,

behind the red paper curtain.