preachers...or otherwise

the world seems to me,

like a dream.

invention of gods,

holy space.

in a colored smoke,

we found,

preachers of death,

all over around.

and we try to understand

what’s wrong with this world?

day after day we crawl,

looking for something,

we can not find.

in a colored rain ,

we fall,

with preachers of death all over around.

"it was so long ago, so long to be named, to be blamed, to be asked. so long ago...!"

me and my meaning dream
in thousand years we lived