Das Buchenland

 




 I knew a child who strewed his path with blue petals, I asked him: why, chum?

“I wanna find my way home” he said

Do not use flowers, I told him, the wind will blow them away

Next day he strewed his path with breadcrumbs so that he could find his way back

after being engulfed by the world, by mountains, by rivers

Do not use breadcrumbs, my child, I said, the pigeons will come and eat them

and you will be lost forever in this savage, fierce world,

you will even forget your words, you will speak the language of trees and birds.

He looked at me with brooding eyes, dimmed by sorrow, he vanished in the forest

fading away as the blue petals, as the breadcrumbs, passing away

the old cottage where he lived crumbled

his home is now a blurred photo

If you zoom in on it you can see

the ruins.














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