Standing By Till Next Breath

Quench my thirst,

satiate my hunger,

not with those tangy-spicy solids or liquids,

not with those exotics or ordinaries,

but with the flavour of the earth.

The smell of the clayey soil and the rain

the hoots of the winter owl 

and the howl of the wild dogs.

They made all of it rot

it asphyxiates in this mephitic world

and so...

I wait for it now - the "mystic creature" to suck this soul out of me

and show the shunned dimension where all the history lies

and the future would be.