the sky shares our secret. it shatters a million times on our way to find a home. it shatters a million times more to see us carry the burden of our history alone. to see us rummaging through the maps for places we can no longer have.
and it keeps shattering. over the earths rigidness. that does not open its arms for us unless we show our identity cards. which we lost somewhere in our home. home. that we are still on our way to find.
but it keeps shattering. on our wearied stroll. with an addressbook in hand. and all the letters written waiting for a postage. waiting to be read aloud once. and reread in silence afterwards. waiting to belong somewhere. to someone. but the addressbook carrys no address.
and the sky keeps shattering above.