Unconscious Memories

Do you remember
your scratched fingers
as you were picking the flower
of the wild thistles
for me?
Oh, and those blood drops? So much
they resembled our free hearts
And how we laughed!

Your dusty t-shirt
Your eyes so curious about the sky
and the world below
Your gaze embracing me
in innocence

Do you remember
The white deity that smiled
in both of us
And how we walked in the same step
knowing already the whole

The rise that was to come
(as well as our death, one day)
Will be –
in our childhood game –

Just another gateway
toward Heaven.