At the edges of days

I think of you

in spaces of

solitude

like from Edward Hopper,

what one does remember when one is dead?

   or let say ... even now,

if not only this sky at dusk

and the ocean horizon line.

Un-presence – a constant state,

when details are hunted

with the precision of a hidden thought.

Nothing can get unnoticed by a traveler

who has no place

of destiny,

nor desire to live ... .

Strings of sunlight on someone’s hand

with a glass of water and unnamed face,

an illusion is dancing again

     on thirsty waves,

who whispers, “somebody great passed away”,

and

who is the one left?

Yes, that’s true,

I lost the meaning

and the will to search

for the sense.