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.