The summer brings to my door
the dried leaves
that breathe no more
the dreams
of my youth
nor smell of desires
long forgotten
in the wilderness
of futile crusades
for the freedom
from the flesh…

I know it will rain again
and new seeds will sprout
in joyous existence
but the dreams will wither
in the winter wind
and the inevitable spring
that will follow
shall be meaningless
in blossoms of flowers
drooping in sad thoughts
of unfulfilled desires
in the womb of fathomless time.