In Praise of Distance

In your eyes
flow the threads of the Fisherman of the Irrsee
In your eyes
The sea keeps its promises

Here I, a heart
that dwelt somewhere far beneath the daily life of human beings,
throw away my clothes and the glance of a vow:

Blacker in black, I am a naked man.
Only when Faithless am I devoted.
I am you if I am I.

In your eyes
I drift and dream of loss and what I’ve only stolen.

A thread caught a thread
and we, embracing, turn away

In your eyes
a hanged man clutches the rope.