Extraterrestrial
Once you asked me
if I were
and why I should ever believe
to be out of prayer beads,
and why the smooth world chrysalis
lies motionless
upon a diary limbo of every possible bond,
of every abstract apolitical thought
of voices never singing
in chorus.
Today one of the musicians
lost his rhythm,
they called me
in the circle of everything
circles,
but I won't replace it,
I play alone, just for nothing,
in my dark ages
just some alert viewers
on the edge of a planet
that never exists,
standing out to listen
my mad extraterrestrial
wind's rhythm.