A Little Wind
My fists open like leaves
The silent line of hair
Seen in the dark
The miracle of fine drawing!
I've dipped in myself
The little soul-bird sleeps inside
A little wind, a little movement
Who understands its meaning?
Word-trees are rising in me
In the tumult of blood-water
Spreading my hand
I only touch the sky.
Isn't there anything else?
Yes, there is
Close like shadow I feel
As I throw the light of my eyes
Nothing's anywhere.
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