This morning
Like every morning
The sun shines in vain
ALL the sunflowers glowing towards faith and possibility
The heart is a bird of irony
That longs for things that no longer exist
The body is a computer
Weighed with megabytes of thoughts
Home is where
Home is not to be
This earth of our ancestors
Is too long to be bothered
Strangers are we
To ourselves
Us to our enemy