A pioneer

The sun is the pendulum in heaven,

don’t know  how many years have gone by,

under the lofty sky,

exploring afar,

with mountains to escape,

leaving a line of shadows,

escaped from the prehistoric wilderness,

to the cloudlike land,

smiling indiffrently,

in the open wilderness,

the pioneer is tiny,

like a grain of sand,

waving a hoe in loneliness,

a pickaxe etched by sun and moon,

when’s the end,

where’s the end,

the horizon’s always teasing him,

in his dream.

Advertisements

Interpersonal foam

The afternoon sun makes me feel lazy,

hiding in my bed,

denying the existence of the horizon,

marking my territory,

ignoring passersby in isolation,

interpersonal foam,

slightly lazy,

being alone is nice,

an eyeful of freedom,