i’m often lost –
seeking meaning amongst the chirping of the wind
amidst the trees and the shadows of their leaves
– the soil of the Earth
with my bare feet buried in the forest vines and flowerless greens
following the footprints of the sun
smelling like the wind intertwined with a herbaceous tint
and subtle scent of decomposing leaves
and when i’m often lost –
in the glare of the past
and the heavy deep Black Sea
the whispers of the birds
and the weight of the silver sky above
i feel this calmness over me
– for being lost is beautiful
though often carries bitter taste
and sadness over me
because i’m often lost
i’ve hurried through the nows
through the nights and through the weeks
where the years have passed
and decades turned to sprints
the accessories of time – reminders of a little life
but when i’m often lost
i look at the heights of linden trees
from beneath the shadows of their leafy crowns
in the embrace of their deep-wide spreading roots
and count the clouds above
oh – how little all this makes me feel
oh – how bigger life is in comparison – to me
or when i’m often lost
i go to feel the biting sand at the soles of my feet
and let the wind brush through my five-day unwashed hair and
talk me into returning to the motherlands
and here i ask
of myself – what’s left
– of life
– of me – of her within
of everything we hurried through and everything we missed and did not see
