Golden heart

I throw the heavy stone in my memory in the first steps on the new path. I look for truth, but it is very early, living scars still hurt. I make a child's kite with dreams, the whole meaning holds up here, naively painted at night and in the days - just superfluous, windy labor. I have the strength to pull the string - sleeping emotion with thought-arrow. I'm waiting to fall where I'm alive beyond the parabola of fear. I slowly move and everything disappears - future care, and anger, and guilt. Most sincere, long, light and sober I drink from the air, there is a jet of silence. Tender and warm, not mine, incidental windows dead wash tears. It then keeps them warm and joyless. Behind them is life. Life is alive! And is there truth, is it meaningful? From today I wake up with a new face. Bright and empty, ignorant, I search the road with a direction and a path with a heart.