The clock ticking does kill me;

A rock breaking Abel’s skull;

A scream in the shortest bursts;

It pushes me towards my hearse.

So I flee the rotting home,

To find the greenery:trees.

To hear time pass like whispers,

It forged mountains as sisters.

Where the time will pass like song

And I dream in concertos―

The birds speak divinity;

Hidden crystallinity.

Do you hear the calling wind?

Where sun and leaf tickle branch,

And you and I, peacefully,

Could fade forward, truthfully?

Where the forest bends its knees,

And the time we keep can flee.