The House
He said he would build a house,
I could not say no.
He dragged his old body,
And devised his own methods,
With eight chambers and nine windows,
One day he asked, why was I not there,
To celebrate the house,
To belong somewhere,
And to scream,
With my arms spread,
This is mine!
But there were no flights,
He wished to see me before leaving,
And the next day he left.
With a house that awaits,
With its empty windows,
And half-finished roofs,
To be lieved again,
To belong to someone again,
And to feel pulsation,
And warm living breaths,
Before emptiness envelops again,
To experience life,
Before being shattered again.(5)