In dividio

Individual. In dividio. Indivisible.How much have I tryed to giveto earn from yourindivisible radiance?
I see a slender towerof a distant churchpartially hidden by trees.It’s a tall spruce.
I walk, a yellow garbage bin in my handto the back of the plot of my country house,where deer and village dogslook for bread and fish scraps,rotten bananas,exotics from overseas,ashes and diamonds.
Through the yearsI tryed to provide youwith best pieces of myself,never askingif you prefer bread of fish scraps,poetry or earrings,dinners or a shoulder rub.
Individual. In dividio. Indivisible.Somewhere there’s a beautiful apple,but those who bite on itare just random worms.
I put the yellow binon the concrete cover of the well.Now empty, it is blowns awayoverwhelmed by the breath of the world.
The lake across the streetis trying to break out of itself,to grow into a sea.
The lake resembles me today –defiance in it’s gray blood.
Individual. In dividio. Indivisible.Constantly distressed to find piece.And soit’s impossible to light bonfiresin the windows of strangers.And soit’s not possible to earnwindless years.
Only thenwhen you come as knifeagainst my scales,against my dry fish skin,a piece of my is releasedon your salty tongue.