I am the frozen winter night,behind your window turning you mad.I’m the snow piling up,Atop the mountains’ peaks.About to fall and erase your town. Waiting in danger.I am what makes the dark a lonely sight.The slightly want.I am what makes spring a fertile time.Once death has taken away what might.And you expect. But I can’t give.For I take.

A little bit of covert and noon became sunset.(Without the glasses,A blurry ball in front of sun)Beyond, further down or up, (according to your mind frame,space has no address);it must have been a sun ringlet of samba move.And the time regained again its nooness with a frozen wind one could very well despise.For the he sun above was there and there it was the sun.The dark shape on the window spying the birds.The fly buzzing and the silence a moment ago, melted into everyday life.One without ado.