the gate was waiting for me
with all its planks
ready to fall down
if I would’ve put my hand
on its bolt
there were no flowers in the garden
anymore
my little childhood house
to tired to look out for me
ceased to hope
it was leaning against my dearest apple-tree
-with its bark ceaseless rummaged
by the worms-
then my legs started to plunge
into the soil
strange weeds fast rising around them
I tried to scream
there was no sound into my throat
I vainly tried to run
but I was only running backwards
then gradually I became what I first was
dust
my body lies now scattered
in every stone of the road
looking at it my soul
doesn't recognize it