I want to see the thirst inside the syllables I want to touch the fire in the sound: I want to feel the darkness of the cry. I want words as rough as virgin rocks.” - Verb.

The night is shattered, and the blue stars shiver in the distance.

I am made of earth, and my song made of words.

How much does a man live, after all?/ Does he live a thousand days, or one only? For a week, or for several centuries?/ How long does a man spend dying?/ What does it mean to say 'for ever'?

In the distance someone is singing.

Whom can I ask what I came to make happen in this world?

Love! Love until the night collapses!