The whispers near the lake are
the voices of the Etruscan Gods who slept more than two thousand years.
Maybe the beat of white wings woke them up,
a glass window broke, a glass broke the water, a looking glass.
We woke up in another world, on a black beach.
We gather the golden rays of a golden moon, the song of a nightingale mirrors you.
Gives everything back to us
and more.
