journey

he is alone
on a deserted path, southward he travels
a dry, thin cough from the bitter, black lungs in his chest
he is freezing

he is cold
in the gray snow, fairies drawing circles
a red, thick stream from the lonely, broken heart in his chest
he is chanting

he is unknown
by the frozen river, gods answer his prayers
a wet, salty drop from the gray, dry eyes falls to the ground
he is screaming

he is old
by a carved statue, flowers sharp as daggers
a blue, sweet word from the harsh, grim lips falls to the ground
he is fallen