I’m not thinking of anything.
I’m with the wind,
the grass,
the pollen bits
running into my cells.
There’s a song in the background,
but it’s not really there.
The sun peeks in
time to time,
but the clouds are my roof
and dim reflection
of suppressed rays
my light.
I am simply.
The earth rustles,
everything sways,
and everything I am
is all.
I am a molecule among molecules.
I am a set upon this setting.
I am something the wind can rustle.
I speak
and move,
make a difference,
give impressions,
separate
into elements
of human,
but I’m still
simply.