A thud at my window!
An unseen moment was let go
For there I sat on a throne
Which bore an ephemeral glow.

—Though it soon had been heard:
Our mother's hand not in the least is arbitrary,
For she weaves such a gossamer web
That connects through all things contradictory—

And so I rose above my windowsill
And found, a soft bird perched hither,
So close to this ragged forest
Brave—I thought—she;

She waited for an eye, so it seemed,
To meet with her's—indefinitely
Though it took an eternity for me being there,
The next gaze she stole and flew away from me.

A meaning I saw with no boundaries
For an incoherent silence was answered upon—
The yearning of a wave to find a shore
Only then, to retreat back to the sea.