Often I close my eyes

Often I close my eyes
and you leave
Somewhere…, somewhere…!?

Under the eyelids
voices and endless spaces;

but where could your walking stick,
your age-bowed back
and weary knees,
lead you up, where?

The pathways you follow are dead-ends for the lost;
other laws are in heights of heaven.

I fail to know
I'd rather guess which are their signs,
which hands do they stretch towards you,
which promises do they give?