The circles that throw out of me,
like fragments of useless things,
my vision-
they settle, it’s curtains half closed,
on the sight of the things above me.

They are the collected dust of years and existence,
and I am an observer.

I look at them for a while, and then I go away.

I go away to sleep.
I go away to shut my curtains completely.


But when I go away, I come back.
and things haunt me before falling on the blanketing things that keep me warm.

I am understanding the concept of love.
When you love, you fall.
When you love, you fall.
When I love, I will fall.

My Mother and Father are falling.

But they stop falling when I look at dust.
Everything stops falling
when I look at dust.