Poetry

To endless I stare
absolute obscure I see;
-behind becomes grayer
as you step upon me.


I cannot endure you
to touch the sky overhead;
-entirety is absent not few;
-the space is much to be fed.


Your finger pointed up there
and my eyes on earth now;
-those smell of dusts here
made me pondered somehow;


-of what I have made within
a hunger and terror of loss
beneath lays everything                     
and yet the coins I toss.

-Nr.