One day a colourful bird with wounded wings and body perched on my roof and cried:
I have fallen!
There he sat so statically waiting for me to wake to whisper quietly to me:
-Surrender yourself to the wings of my life
Only you can make them very colourful
I fell straight on to your roof
To go back in time
That is why you suffer
I gave my wings till the very end
And now I await the day
That they will return beautiful to me and I will fly again and land once more in your mind
Beating for the rest of my life
The wings created by you, Eli dearest.
Huh! Are your wings like lenses?
Multiplying the ideas inside of me?
You suffocated me with your wings like a chain
Just to get them back radiant?
Did a question mark settle there?
Because I knew that my work would be never ending.
Eli Heil
