My ecco ring, bonus is come
The old needle
Stands in a moss of green
Its broken point strikes me –
Once it was much higher
My feet uncertain
I stumble past.
A disappointed feeling
Numbless
It rattles silent.
My ecco ring, bonus is come.
To recall numbers counted
Their beauty
Does not smell and their humour
No mercy.
A flashing moment just waking up.
What was the grip you took ?
Paying ourselves for what goes up and up,
To eclipse the eclipse – to let it rip.
