BUT NOT NOW

Many sources have

fed and filled the cistern

whose waters are my being,

                             mixing.

Under the Sun it reflects

the deep blue, 

                         sparkling,

in the dusk it grows dark,

merging with the night.

In winter

its surface freezes.

So many sources

                             feed

it, yet soon

                   it will be empty,

cracked and empty,

and the Sun and the dusk

and the night will fill

its crumbling emptiness

                        with their being.

07.06.2025

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