One yellow sunday afternoon
There, on the bus, were-
Ten and some more passengers,
Waiting for the right moment
To get off into the outer space.
- I do not go yet.
A man in front of me stood up and
Dropped coins into a box.
Then, he was gone off to the world
Where I looked down onto.
There, where he was placed,
The plastic bag and dust,
The dust and dead leaves were swirling up
Higher and higher toward the endless blue of the top.
There, where he was able to see nothing more,
Immobile houses and letters,
The letters and sighs were going around,
Coming around, back and forth.
Now my turn , then I felt.
The sky- bright
The wind - no temperature
Having started to run away from there,
Realized - No where to go, No clues, however.
The bus left me, all alone.
He again left somebody else without saying anything.
Then he would take someone else into his body.
They would get out, then get on.
Such things - swirling high up into the sky.
Such things - melted into the time ticking away,
Into the time on one yellow saturday afternoon.
MachineHe, is a machine
That understands logic
That can never understand emotion
His core is comprised of
010101010101010101010101.
He, is a broken computer.
That comprehends what languages mean
That can never feel what tongues would really mean.
When all the commands shut down,
He speaks nothing more.
A Big Heart
At a place
We gathered as one.
One was gone,
And then soon after,
2, 3, 4,
Followed and vanished,
Gone somewhere far beyond.
At somewhere on this planet,
One feels them on their back,
Becomes a lonestar,
To feel deep inside:
That it was a miracle we had encountered
With no accident -
Feel: there would be a big heart
Between you and me,
For always, eternally,
In our vast blue sky,
In the air we breathe,
In every word we speak,
In our vague mind,
Deep inside of the core in this big,
But small world where we are
- On this planet without you.
