Cruising

The view of the same old stories,
cruising through the streets.
The same old feelings coming,
cruising through the time.

A large creature of our life,
passing me,
in my cruise.
Its groan of life,
makes the way to the death.

The cruise continues,
and never will end.
The same life or death,
an old, boring friend.
This cruise of the old days,
of life and limb.

When will this cruise end?
-In eternity?

...passing a forest,
its pale face of time,
whatever that is...

Waiting to see something new,
a new life, a new love, a new friend?
No.
The death,
my death.
Not in this cruise,
my cruise,
of life...

26.04.1998



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The Black Wolf

Christoffer Haukvik

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