ROBIN SON
I am the
hunted King
Of the frost and big icicles
An the bogey cold
With its wind boots.
I am the
uncrowned
Of the rainworld
Hunted
by lightning and thunder
And rivers.
I am the
lost child
Of the wind
Who
goes through me looking for
something
else
Who can´t
recognize me though I cry.
I am the
maker
Of the world
That
rolls to crush
And silence
my knowledge.
Ted Hugues
