He said he lost everything.
From his hair to toenails.
From his skin to the mind.
He was depressed and blind.
Then, he becomes a particle of dust.
Then, he owns everything.

A door opens.
He rides the wind.
What is that?
Orange, yellow and red;
Burning, hot, and warm.
A fireplace with an orange bubble.
A strip of scarf,
and the coziness is hung around the house.
What is that?
Brown and white are swirling,
Bitter and sweet,
A stream is running down the throat and raising the heat.
He signs with a scent of cocoa.
What is that?
A body sinks into a pile of marshmallows,
A breath as light as feathers brush against the air.
Even and thick.
He melts into the armchair,
and snores with comfort hugging his soul.

He dances around with delight.
He forgets he once lost everything.
He pivots with the wind and counts what he owns:
A rocky road in front of his house;
New paint on the wall;
The light that only has one light bulb working;
A brick wall with dark bricks embedded among the red bricks.
“Art! Art! That’s a piece of art!”
He proclaims in ecstasy.

Then he counts and falls asleep in his dream of memory.
And wakes up with everything.