Call

Only when I look back your eyes are clear answers
that tells me it's inside my head
the trees are blossoming. Anyway, I go
forward in the maze where blindness
is my strength and every snowflake
is stirred like a thought.
There is no way back,
and there is a long way to the point,
where the sea is falling out of the sky,
but when it happens, I call the calls
a call
in the darkness of your presence.
I'm a nice sea.
You can empty it for ideas.