prophets*

The days of rain would return And the sound of the city touches Your enlightened brain

I'll write to you about today About the leaves on the streets of Berlin When all I want is To find this space of the breath A space of atmosphere Red wine on my teeth Your wet guitar And the cab driver asking me about What I think about everything that is happening in Gaza

The street lights are shining And the rain soaks my wounds Everything is connected Say the prophets of Instagram When you're looking for an Uber The seconds expand And a storm from some galaxy Is approaching this now And with a bit of Speed It all feels like An embrace of time Lights from the past Crossing the streets

The lunar eclipses are over And the solar smoke fades away Everything is like a Network of subway connections Roots, rivers, memories All an embrace of time

And in the now Nothing but the sound of the sea And a Tramway station Somewhere in a corner of Berlin