Reflections

From Dityatky to the end
I want to walk your paths
again.

From the river to the bridge
I want to shiver from
the wind.

From the flowers to the woods
I want to feel your smell
for good.

From the grasses to the crowns
I want to see the 
butterflies.

From the downstairs to the top
I want to reach 
your highest spot.

From the rooftop, to the left
I want to see
the power plant. 

From horizon, to the arch
I want to feel
the city's arms.

From the buildings to the steel
I want to know
you're safe and real.

From the Shelter, to the grey
I want to breathe,
I want to stray.

I want to stay;
the sun leaves conscious
reflections
on her Sarcophagus.

Photo: Thomas Stürz