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Maneuvers
to
Endeavor the wait.

She, a beautiful sunflower.
A still star pulsating with exuberance
which appears in my night sky
filled with brilliant delights.

I, lying on the womb of mother earth
await those alien words
that will call me from the slumber
I'm falling in.

Will they come?
 
I shall keep my keen ear to the earth
and
 from the beating heart of my mother
will they ever resound,
and
 from the rumble of her pitless belly
will they echo through,
and
 from the pulsating hummm
will I make them out.

Nothing for now.