But wait, I am a net –sending waves, breathing photons
causing beautiful thunderstorms, that light up various paths.
I flower the dark. I emerge, I subside, I take wing.
I am always close to an unwritten poem
that gathers more than just the sum of single pieces.
The “I“ appears to be the skin of mind
that wants to be caressed by grammer and explanations.
I think, “I“ thinks in heavy dictionaries
translating itself into questions. Who am I. Who I am.
Just one guarantee: Beyond, all tracks go together.
I mean the source of thunderstorms.
From this point – light up now.

September 2013