Where we cannot touch

lies the golden serpent.

For the soul is a wanderer

with many hands and feet,

time takes life away while 

we sleep. A pale serpent 

hiding behind the veil, eats

its own tail around my neck.

If I would let myself loose,

I would lose it all at once:

my soul, my face, my fickle 

skin. My stars, my moons, 

and my serpentine wounds.