.............................................................................................................

He did not dare
to look again, his eyes were closed
and his body was shaking,
still wandering what it was; a nest of eyes,
rolling in circles, looking at both sides,
to inside sparks, electrified,
zooming creatures,
under the arms of stars,
turning slowly in endless orbits
through a long galaxy night;
a visual family
in a home of wires, build in the highest tree,
because looking upwards, there is no final branch to see,
but the tree is shaking and he is nearly falling
to where nothing is waiting to hold,
a deep of swamps,
with dancing ferns, long and bold,
and he clean his helmet, to open his nearest view;
when the eyes are flying over a rainbow,
made from life and starlight
dew...


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