There is  longing.
 leaving.
 coming back.
 leaving again.

there are the faces of loved ones
 always a bit changed.
 A new line here.
 Couple kilos there.
 The boobs have boobed out,
 or in.
 A hair is getting longer,
 or the hairline higher,
 sometimes there is no hair.
 
And sometimes there just is no more.
 Past away,
 beyond    –i don't know what.

 There is the blue moment,
 just before the darkness
 all is blue.

  rottencoloured ground,
 that shimmers when the froze arrives.

  everywhere reaching whitnesse,
 that leaves nothing,
 but a naked nature.

  through all that death.
comes green
 And everything is full of the bright life again.

 Sometimes i and the silent lake
 wonder about
 the circeling monoghramy of the landscapes.
 If all that would be the macrocosmos of a living being,
if the nature would be the body, 
could the coulour be the spirit ?