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A Precipice. A Door.

de Kardashev

What place is this?
Ia raue oun soal
I stood so still
Vead cuarne courpaion
Where have I gone?
Iaj o zeov ial andea
What words are these?
Alunea, dag ua nai

Language of morning
Thoughts in a dewdrop's tremor
And you are quickening air
New words pull from me
From your formation
Iash!
Ie!
Iesh!
Iie!

I come from far off and across
A place of endless blooming
Furiously chased by their words
It does not end

Here too I see this blooming, and we reach for it now
Voices in the echoes taking form in air

That I must chase without choice
And create meaning
Is a challenge to my new mind
And I must move slowly

Crafted by those from my home to seed a new land
Etched into your code all things known
And drawn in the sand

Ie dej veana undare

Sky-brother, tell me, on your distant star
Was there a place where meaning held it's motion?

All is meaning, all is movement

When I returned
You came here from the sunlight
And now are we to greet ourselves?
Can we be still?
Come now, we’ll watch the twilight
I should not have gone!
Should is a word I can’t find
And now are we to greet ourselves?
What place is this?
Eudzi, Aaithua

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