The Bell

It started with a bell
Not ringing
But breaking into a half
And tonight
300 years later
I am lying in an
unnerving sleeplessness

Wishing I would never have known
Harmony of words
Very short winter days
A calming darkness
Between colorful houses
And even the cold feels familiar

I only knew
A knowledge devouring fire
Hot, too hot like
my own impatience
compromises breaking
Into a half
And libraries are burning still
Since 300 years

And if I would be dead
At least I would know
That the birds would lead you
To find my body
But I am still alive
And I feel
Nothing hurts more than
My own impatience

I want to give you my ring
To know you will only reject it.