Within the Time’s still unbroken bricks,
A feather is falling down slowly,
Carrying a crawling sound of the wind blowing.
Levitating feather, undoubtedly light
Is picked up by your gracious fingers.
Admiring yourself in the mirror,
You start to dance to the ticking of the old clock.
The white fluffiness touches you, it tingles.
Bizarre feelings awakening slowly.
You feel the time unlock the tickling clock.
The hours increase the pace, the space distortion
Brings you to commotion.
The feather is spear, now scratching your skin,