Biting the biting frost

looking into the sun

warm and golden-coated they become

The outstretched hand suspended in the air

as if...

Feeling with his gaze

the crusty old cheek, wrinkled, soft, yet red

At the same time, as hard as rock, healthy

under the power of tenderness of a wide, innocent smile.

The earthy cracks around the eyes,

under the same bloom of thousands of skins - firm, glowing but also lined,

those cracks of dawn when the day meets the night

have called for a dream:

Lift up your foot, shake off the earthy part of it

And run and run

As you'll be going round the earth and back in thousands of suns' time while upon coming back to the the starting line

this will have turned into a whole world for you.

But as you run or come back, don't let it touch that patch, that forever-untouched patch which people call the sky beyond the silver lining,

beyond the clouds, the same sky unaccepting of the earth's capacity to turn around in its wings

While all the while, the same old glowing but lined skin will understand that every wing has turned around the concept of crawling.

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