We were rock solid in this wobbling, you and me,
and then I learned how to ride in a sailboat,
and believe that the world was in fact flat,
and endless in its circumventing of this mess,
There were lines on the horizon that were marked with good intentions
and there were footpaths untouched,
laid out for the likes of me
To my right I found comfort in the Fata Morgana, as I had always found before,
it was my pillow when you disappeared in the late hours of the evening,
or the early hours of the morning, that you said did not count,
whichever way you wanted to call it,
but I had called it dead on arrival,
quite sometime before my departure here
And to my left, the rising Sun,
emerging to take its rightful place on the pedestal we all held for him,
and fulfilling an empty promise you had made to me,
telling me good and plenty,
that there was always---
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