Of the hours navigating my own mind
While shadows move across the floor,
The inertia of my legs and arms
Compensate for thoughts that at times
Revolve as circles in the ocean wild
Or thunder at the speed of light
In never ending rainy days.
I recall people who left my life
And hope that, care or hate,
A drop of me lives in them.
For I myself tend to forget
– Still as I may be –
I am not quite as dead yet.