It is the wind that upsets pages
Spills them on the floor
Both personal and impersonal

It is the spark blown from the fireplace
That catches and spreads
Unwelcome destruction

It inks itself through typeface
And bleeds through paper
Wet with rain

Until the tears dry
The fire abates
Wind settles
Ceases

Still

And I remember the sound of your name

The heart has eyes
that see clearer than sight

You don't sing well?
No matter--sing just for yourself!

You've been insulted-
for the first time?
Be prepared:
many more will come!

Do not be bound
by anything
not even yourself:
this is freedom's true meaning

Time is but a broken plate —
It happened long ago,
In memories I crave to piece
Shreads of secrets never told.

The sad clown looks at me  and as his mask unfolds,
I hear my cracked lips,
silent screams
"Im you but I forgot"