I

I've got my eyes from you...

As you're lacking full vision now, I would give you mine

if I could force it out of me, if I could truly give it up for you, if I didn't alter the 'yes'.

II

After the rain, the river rhythmically pumps

soul into the city:

Has crept inside its mouth hissing [from the tangled roots], skirting around,

growing occasionally downstream, lurking at the borders, drifting upstream.

All the blues on Earth smell like the sky and the ocean

Woven, swum, walked in the hardly spoken lute songs:

High is the hum towards the points of the compass, a little bit more to the east.

Tattooed sharply in the water droplets that fill the air, moving on faster, among devouring, sleepless monsters

of underground raves, those empty voices that make it clear:

no one you can think of is on that path, the only one left.

I

Yet, you know better: the city's got its soul, its promise.

Your lot knew it already: you were the child of the ever-after.

They didn't tell you, they didn't want you to know.

They were too scared.

'I'll give it back to you': the vision.

http://www.breakingtheglassslipper.com/2020/02/20/five-questions-with-rym-kechacha/

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/48997958-dark-river

Credits for the photo go to:

https://www.freepik.com/photos/water

Water photo created by wirestock - www.freepik.com

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