Voice

Ich habe das Gefühl ich lese schon wieder zuviel Kenji Miyazawa.
Das beeinflusst meinen Schreibstil immer hart für ein paar Tage rip

Heartbeats of lonely thunderstorms

The gray of the skies
is painted in with what one would call desaster
incoming storms and rainy hours

The blue spots of the windy isles
still left to see
in between the devils cauldron
on the firmanent

Walk with me as the thunder roars out
as a lightning bolt claims the fields
and splashing, crashing rain
purifies the world

In the fields on the hills in between heavy grapes
a Little mouse welcomes the flood
from heavens gate
and gifted it takes away the round, chubby berries
that fell from their vines

And I ask you where to go now
for while this lasts the world is ours
and together we become the earths guilty pleasure
trying to rip us out of our shells
of our bodies

I believe in their free time
the gods gamble to free our souls
I believe in lazy nights
with eyes half-open they empathize with us
showing us possibilites we're normally not given
and they send us death

May a lightning strike me
it's the same as suddenly become a rich futile person
infertile soil doesn't even give away rich flavour
with the best of fertilizer
So we may as well take the other side
and be lucky enough to be ended while the skies burn.