The hit

If you know everything
you can forget
all about it and
just fly, you said.

I don’t know what happened,
but I can’t see you anymore.

If I had the strength,
from this rock;
if I had the courage to yield.
Perhaps I would be floating
down as a feather.

Why talk if you can see.
If you would speak your mind,
the cold blade would cut the mist.

Hit
or overshoot
but afterwards you would anyhow know
the reason why.

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